Sain. 


V 


S\xV\\x>atv\, 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


In  all  the  story  of  the  world  of  man, 

Who  blazed  the  way  to  greater,  better  things? 

Who  stopped  the  long  migration  of  wild  men, 

And  set  the  noble  task  of  building  human  homes? 

The  learned  recluse?     The  forum  teacher? 

The  poet-singer?     The  soldier,  voyager, 

Or  ruler  ?    'T  was  none  of  this  proud  line. 

The  man  who  digged  the  ground  foretold  the  destiny 

Of  men.    'T  was  he  made  anchor  for  the  heart; 

Gave  meaning  to  the  hearthstone,  and  the  birthplace, 

And  planted  vine  and  figtree  at  the  door. 

He  made  e'en  nations  possible.     Aye,  when 

With  his  stone  axe  he  made  a  hoe,  he  carved, 

Unwittingly,  the  scepter  of  the  world. 

The  steps  by  which  the  multitudes  have  climbed 

Were  all  rough-hewn  by  this  base  implement. 

In  its  rude  path  have  followed  all  the  minor 

Arts  of  men.     Hark  back  along  the  centuries, 

And  hear  its  march  across  the  continents. 

From  zone  to  zone,  all  'round  the  bounteous  world, 

The  man  whose  skill  makes  rich  the  barren  field 

And  causes  grass  to  grow,  and  flowers  to  blow, 

And  fruits  to  ripen,  and  grain  turn  to  gold — 

That  man  is  King !     Long  live  the  King ! 

— MRS.  J.  K.  HUDSON. 


uf  q 


V 

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i«KV^    ^<*#-& 

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They  sought  the  trail  and  followed  it  westward 
in  the  face  of  the  wind 


[70] 


WINNING 
THE  WILDERNESS 


BY 

MARGARET  HILL  McCARTER 

Author  of  "The  Price  of  the  Prairie,"  "A  Wall  of  Men,"  "The  Peace 
of  the  Solomon  Valley,"  "A  Master's  Degree,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

J.  N.  MARCHAND 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

19U 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
1914 


Published  September,  1914 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


To 

THAT  FARMER  FATHER  AND  MOTHER 

WITH  THEIR  HANDS  ON  TODAY 

BUT  WITH  THEIR  EYES  ON  TOMORROW 

WHO  THROUGH  LABOR  AND  LONELINESS  AND 

HOPES  LONG  DEFERRED 

HAVE  WON  A  DESERT  TO  FRUITFULNESS 

A  WILDERNESS  TO  BEAUTY 


M535003 


FOREWORD 

A  REACH  of  level  prairie  bounded  only  by  the  edge 
of  the  world  —  misty  ravelings  of  heliotrope  and 
amber,  covered  only  by  the  arch  of  heaven  —  blue,  beautiful 
and  pitiless  in  its  far  fathomless  spaces.  To  the  southwest  a 
triple  fold  of  deeper  purple  on  the  horizon  line  —  mere  hint 
of  commanding  headlands  thitherward.  Across  the  face  of 
the  prairie  streams  wandering  through  shallow  clefts,  aim 
lessly,  somewhere  toward  the  southeast;  their  course 
secured  by  gentle  swells  breaking  into  sheer  low  bluffs  on 
the  side  next  to  the  water,  or  by  groups  of  cottonwood 
trees  and  wild  plum  bushes  along  their  right  of  way.  And 
farther  off  the  brown  indefinite  shadowings  of  half -tamed 
sand  dunes.  Aside  from  these  things,  a  featureless  land 
scape —  just  grassy  ground  down  here  and  blue  cloud- 
splashed  sky  up  there. 

The  last  Indian  trail  had  disappeared.  The  hoofprints 
of  cavalry  horses  had  faded  away.  The  price  had  been 
paid  for  the  prairie  —  the  costly  measure  of  death  and  dar 
ing.  But  the  prairie  itself,  in  its  loneliness  and  loveliness, 
was  still  unsubdued.  Through  the  fury  of  the  winter's 
blizzard,  the  glory  of  the  springtime,  the  brown  wastes  of 
burning  midsummer,  the  long  autumn,  with  its  soft  sweet 
air,  its  opal  skies,  and  the  land  a  dream  of  splendor  which 
the  far  mirage  reflects  and  the  wide  horizon  frames  in  a 
curtain  of  exquisite  amethyst  —  through  none  of  these  was 
the  prairie  subdued.  Only  to  the  coming  of  that  king 
whose  scepter  is  the  hoe,  did  soul  of  the  soil  awake  to 
life  and  promise.  To  him  the  wilderness  gave  up  every 
thing  except  its  beauty  and  the  sweep  of  the  freedom- 
breathing  winds  that  still  inspire  it. 


CONTENTS 
PART  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     THE  BLESSING  OF  ASHER 1 

II     THE  SIGN  OP  THE  SUNFLOWER 16 

III  THE  WILL  OF  THE  WIND 30 

IV  DISTRESS  SIGNALS 45 

V  A  PLAINSMAN  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL     ....  58 

VI  WHEN  THE  GRASSHOPPER  WAS  A  BURDEN     .     .  82 

VII     THE  LAST  BRIDGE  BURNED 103 

VIII     ANCHORED  HEARTHSTONES 122 

IX     THE  BEGINNING  OF  SERVICE 136 

X     THE  COMING  OF  LOVE 155 

XI     LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS 175 

XII     THE  FAT  YEARS 187 

PART  II 

XIII  THE   ROLLCALL 207 

XIV  THE  SECOND  GENERATION 224 

XV     THE  COBURN  BOOK 238 

XVI  THE  HUMANENESS  OF  CHAMPERS       ....  263 

XVII     THE  PURPLE  NOTCHES 274 

XVIII      REMEMBERING  THE  Maine 289 

XIX     THE  "FIGHTING  TWENTIETH" 311 

XX     THE  CROOKED  TRAIL 330 

XXI     JANE  AYDELOT'S  WILL 354 

XXII      THE   FARTHER  WILDERNESS 362 

XXIII  THE  END  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 379 

XXIV  THE  CALL  OF  THE  SUNFLOWER  393 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

They  sought  the  trail  and  followed  it  westward  in  the 

face   of   the    wind Frontispiece 

"Read  these/'  she  said,  "then  promise  me  that  in  the 
hour  when  Leigh  needs  my  help  you  will  let  me  help 
her" 166 

"It's  a  friendly  act  on  somebody's  part/'  he  said  grimly     180 

Leigh  turned  to  see  Thaine  Aydelot  looking  down  at  her 

as  he  leaned  over  the  high  back  of  the  rustic  seat     .     274 


PART  ONE 


THE  FATHER 

The  old  Antaean  fable  of  strength  renewed  from  the  ground 
Was    a    human    truth    for    the    ages;    since    the    hour    of    the 

Eden-birth. 
That  man  among-  men  was  strongest  who  stood  with  his  feet  on 

the  earth ! 

— SHARLOT  M.  HALL. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  BLESSING  OF  ASHEE 

Unless  there  be  in  the  background   a  mother,  no 
portrait  of  a  man  is  complete. 

—WINSTON  CHURCHILL. 


old  Ajdelot  farm  reached  quite  down  to  the  little 
village  of  Cloverdale,  from  which  it  was  separated 
by  Clover  Creek.  But  the  Aydelot  farmhouse  stood  a 
good  half-mile  away  up  the  National  pike  road  toward  the 
Virginia  state  line.  The  farm  consisted  of  two  long  nar 
row  strips  of  ground,  bordering  the  road  on  either  side 
and  walled  about  by  forests  hiding  stagnant  marshes  in 
their  black-shadowed  depths.  Francis  Aydelot  had  taken 
up  the  land  from  the  government  before  the  townsite  was 
thought  of.  Farming  was  not  to  his  liking  and  his  house 
had  been  an  inn,  doing  a  thriving  business  with  travelers 
going  out  along  that  great  National  highway  in  ante- 
railway  days.  But  when  the  village  took  root  and  grew 
into  a  little  town,  the  village  tavern  absorbed  the  revenue 
from  the  traveling  public,  and  Francis  Aydelot  had,  per 
force,  to  put  his  own  hands  to  the  plow  and  earn  a  living 
from  the  land.  It  was  never  a  labor  of  love  with  him, 
however,  and  although  he  grew  well-to-do  in  the  tilling,  he 
resented  the  touch  of  the  soil  as  something  degrading. 

1 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


Cloverdale  did  not  grow  toward  him,  because,  out  of 
prejudice  at  its  being,  he  would  not  sell  one  foot  of  his 
ground  for  town  lot  purposes.  Nevertheless,  since  he  was 
upright  in  all  his  dealings,  the  villagers  grew  proud  of 
him,  deferred  to  his  judgment,  quoted  his  opinions,  and 
rated  him  generally  the  biggest  asset  of  the  community, 
with  one  exception.  That  exception  was  young  Asher 
Aydelot,  a  pink-cheeked,  gray-eyed  boy,  only  son  of  the 
House  of  Aydelot  and  heir  to  all  the  long  narrow  acres 
from  the  wooded  crest  on  the  east  to  the  clear  waters  of 
Clover  Creek  on  the  west.  He  was  heir  to  more  than  these, 
however,  if  the  heritage  of  ancestry  counts  for  anything. 

Jean  Aydelot,  the  first  of  the  name  in  America,  driven 
from  France  by  his  family  on  account  of  his  Huguenot 
beliefs,  had  settled  in  Virginia.  He  had  quickly  grasped 
the  American  ideals  of  freedom,  the  while  he  affiliated  easily 
with  the  exclusive  English  Cavaliers.  Something  of  the 
wanderlust  in  his  blood,  however,  kept  him  from  rooting 
too  firmly  at  once.  It  happened  that  when  a  band  of 
Quaker  exiles  had  sought  refuge  in  Virginia  and  was 
about  to  be  driven  out  by  the  autocratic  Cavaliers,  young 
Aydelot,  out  of  love  for  a  Quaker  girl,  had  championed 
their  cause  vehemently.  And  he  was  so  influential  in  the 
settlement  that  he  might  have  succeeded,  but  for  one 
family  —  the  wealthy  and  aristocratic  Thames.  Through 
the  son  of  this  family  the  final  expulsion  of  these  Quakers 
was  accomplished.  The  woman  in  the  case  was  Mercy 
Pennington,  a  pretty  Quakeress  with  whom  young  Jerome 
Thaine  fell  in  love,  promising  protection  to  all  her  people 
in  return  for  her  hand.  When  she  refused  his  offer,  the 
Thames  carried  the  day,  and  the  Quakers  again  became 


The  Blessing  of  Asher  3 

exiles.  Jean  Aydelot  followed  them  to  Pennsylvania  and 
married  Mercy  Pennington,  who  was  promptly  disowned 
by  the  Quaker  Church  for  this  marriage  to  one  outside  its 
membership. 

In  spite  of  all  this  heresy,  however,  the  Aydelots  became 
one  of  the  leading  families  in  the  development  of  the 
colonies.  Their  descendants  fell  heir  to  the  traits  of  their 
French-English  forbears :  freedom  of  belief,  courage  to 
follow  a  cause,  a  touch  of  the  wanderlust,  the  mercurial 
French  mind,  and  the  steady  poise  of  the  followers  of  the 
Inward  Light.  A  trace  of  bitterness  had  come  down  the 
years,  however,  with  the  family  history ;  a  feud-like  resent 
ment  against  the  family  of  Jerome  Thaine  of  Virginia. 

Francis  Aydelot  had  crossed  the  Alleghanies  and  settled 
in  Ohio  in  frontier  days.  Here  his  life,  like  his  narrow, 
woods-bound  farm,  was  clean  and  open  but  narrowed  by 
surroundings  and  lack  of  opportunity.  What  had  made 
for  freedom  and  reform  in  his  ancestors,  in  him  became 
prejudice  and  stubborn  will.  Mrs.  Aydelot  was  a  broad- 
minded  woman.  Something  of  vision  was  in  her  clear 
gray  eyes.  Love  of  beauty,  respect  for  learning,  and  an 
almost  statesman-like  grasp  of  civic  duty  and  the  trend  of 
national  progress  were  hers,  too. 

From  such  ancestry  came  Asher  Aydelot,  the  healthiest, 
happiest  country  boy  that  ever  waked  the  echoes  of  the  old 
Ohio  woodlands,  or  dared  the  currents  of  her  mad  little 
rivers,  or  whistled  fearlessly  as  he  scampered  down  the 
dusty  pike  road  in  the  soft  black  summer  nights. 

Asher  was  just  fifteen  when  the  Civil  War  swept  the 
nation  off  its  feet.  The  Quaker  spirit  of  Mercy  Penning 
ton  made  fighting  repulsive  to  his  father,  but  in  Asher  the 


Whining  the  Wilderness 


old  Huguenot  courage  of  Jean  Aydelot  blazed  forth, 
together  with  the  rash  partisanship  of  a  young  hot-blood 
whose  life  has  been  hemmed  in  too  narrowly  by  forest  walls. 
Almost  before  Cloverdale  knew  there  was  a  war,  the  Third 
Ohio  Regiment  was  on  its  way  to  the  front.  Among  its 
bearded  men  was  one  beardless  youth,  a  round-faced  drum 
mer  boy  of  fifteen,  the  only  child  of  the  big  farmhouse  beside 
the  National  road.  In  company  with  him  was  his  boyhood 
chum,  Jim  Shirley,  son  of  the  Cloverdale  tavern  keeper. 

An  April  sun  was  slipping  behind  the  treetops,  and  the 
twilight  mists  were  already  rising  above  the  creek.  Francis 
Aydelot  and  his  wife  sat  on  the  veranda  watching  Asher 
in  the  glory  of  a  military  suit  and  brass  buttons  coming  up 
the  pike  with  springing  step. 

"  How  strong  he  is !  I'm  glad  he  is  at  home  again," 
the  mother  was  saying. 

"  Yes,  he's  here  to  stay  at  last.  I  have  his  plans  all  set 
tled,"  Francis  Aydelot  declared. 

"  But,  Francis,  a  man  must  make  some  plans  for  himself. 
Asher  may  not  agree,"  Mrs.  Aydelot  spoke  earnestly. 

"  How  can  our  boy  know  as  well  as  his  father  does  what 
is  best  for  him  ?  He  must  agree,  that's  all.  We  have  gone 
over  this  matter  often  enough  together.  I  won't  have  any 
Jim  Shirley  in  my  family.  He's  gone  away  and  nobody 
knows  where  he  is,  just  when  his  father  needs  him  to  take 
the  care  of  the  tavern  off  his  hands." 

"What  made  Jim  go  away  from  Cloverdale?"  Mrs. 
Aydelot  asked. 

"Nobody  seems  to  know  exactly.  He  left  just  before 
his  brother,  Tank,  married  that  Leigh  girl  up  the  Clover 


The  Blessing  of  Asher 


valley  somewhere.  But  everything's  settled  for  Asher.  He 
will  be  marrying  one  of  the  Cloverdale  girls  pretty  soon 
and  stay  right  here  in  town.  We'll  take  it  up  with  him 
now.  There's  no  use  waiting." 

"  And  yet  I  wish  we  might  wait  till  he  speaks  of  it  him 
self.  Remember,  he's  been  doing  his  own  thinking  in  the 
time  he's  been  away,"  the  mother  insisted. 

Just  then,  Asher  reached  the  corner  of  the  door  yard. 
Catching  sight  of  the  two,  he  put  his  hands  on  the  top  of 
the  paling  fence,  leaped  lightly  over  it,  and  came  across 
to  the  veranda,  where  he  sat  down  on  the  top  step. 

"  Just  getting  in  from  town  ?  The  place  hasn't  changed 
much,  has  it  ?  "  the  father  declared. 

"  No,  not  much,"  Asher  replied  absently,  looking  out 
with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  lengthening  woodland  shadows, 
"  a  church  or  two  more,  some  brick  sidewalk,  and  a  few 
stores  and  homes  —  just  added  on,  not  improved.  I  miss 
Jim  Shirley  everywhere.  The  older  folks  seem  the  same, 
but  some  of  the  girls  are  pushing  baby-carriages  and  the 
boys  are  getting  round-shouldered  and  droopy- jawed." 

He  drew  himself  up  with  military  steadiness  as  he  spoke. 

"Well,  you  are  glad  to  settle  down  anyhow,"  his  father 
responded.  "The  old  French  spirit  of  roving  and  adven 
ture  has  had  its  day  with  you,  and  now  you  will  begin 
your  life  work." 

"Yes,  I'm  done  with  fighting."  Asher's  lips  tightened. 
"But  what  do  you  call  my  life  work,  father?" 

It  was  the  eighth  April  after  the  opening  of  the  Civil 
War.  Asher  had  just  come  home  from  two  years  of  army 
service  on  the  western  plains.  Few  changes  had  come  to 
the  little  community ;  but  to  the  young  man,  who  eight 


6  Winning  the  Wilderness 

springtimes  ago  had  gone  out  as  a  pink-cheeked  drummer 
boy,  the  years  had  been  full  of  changes.  He  was  now 
twenty-three,  straight  as  an  Indian,  lean  and  muscular  as 
a  veteran  soldier.  The  fair,  round  cheeks  of  boyhood  were 
brown  and  tinged  with  red-blooded  health.  There  was 
something  resolute  and  patient  in  the  clear  gray  eyes,  as 
if  the  mother's  own  far  vision  had  crept  into  them.  But 
the  ready  smile  that  had  made  the  Cloverdale  community 
love  the  boy  broke  as  quickly  now  on  the  man's  face,  giv 
ing  promise  that  his  saving  sense  of  humor  and  his  good 
nature  would  be  factors  to  reckon  with  in  every  combat. 

Asher  had  staid  in  the  ranks  till  the  end  of  the  war,  had 
been  wounded,  captured,  and  imprisoned;  had  fought 
through  a  hospital  fever  and  narrowly  escaped  death  in  the 
front  of  many  battle  lines.  But  he  did  not  ask  for  a  fur 
lough,  nor  account  his  duty  done  till  the  war  was  ended. 
Just  before  that  time,  when  he  was  sick  in  a  Southern 
prison,  a  rebel  girl  had  walked  into  his  life  to  stay  forever. 
With  his  chum,  Jim  Shirley,  he  had  chafed  through  two 
years  in  a  little  eastern  college,  the  while  bigger  things 
seemed  calling  him  to  action.  At  the  end  of  the  second 
year,  he  broke  away,  and  joining  the  regular  army,  began 
the  hazardous  life  of  a  Plains  scout. 

Two  years  of  fighting  a  foe  from  every  way  the  winds 
blow,  cold  and  hunger,  storms  and  floods  and  desert  heat, 
poisonous  reptiles,  poisoned  arrows  of  Indians,  and  the 
deadly  Asiatic  cholera;  sometimes  with  brave  comrades, 
sometimes  with  brutal  cowards,  sometimes  on  scout  duty, 
utterly  and  awfully  alone;  over  miles  on  endless  miles  of 
grassy  level  prairies,  among  cruel  canyons,  in  dreary  sand 
lands  where  men  die  of  thirst,  monotonous  and  maddening 


The  Blessing  of  Asher 


in  their  barren,  eternal  sameness;  and  sometimes,  between 
sunrises  of  superb  grandeur,  and  sunsets  of  sublime  glory, 
over  a  land  of  exquisite  virgin  loveliness  —  it  is  small  won 
der  that  the  ruddy  cheeks  were  bronze  as  an  Indian's,  that 
the  roundness  of  boyhood  had  given  place  to  the  muscular 
strength  of  manhood,  that  the  gray  eyes  should  hold  some 
thing  of  patience  and  endurance  and  of  a  vision  larger 
than  the  Cloverdale  neighborhood  might  understand. 

When  Asher  had  asked,  "What  do  you  call  my  life 
work,  Father?"  something  impenetrable  was  in  his  direct 
gaze. 

Francis  Aydelot  deliberated  before  replying.  Then  the 
decisive  tone  and  firm  set  of  the  mouth  told  what  resistance 
to  his  will  might  cost. 

"It  may  not  seem  quite  homelike  at  first,  but  you  will 
soon  find  a  wife  and  that  always  settles  a  man.  I  can  trust 
you  to  pick  the  best  there  is  here.  As  to  your  work,  it 
must  be  something  fit  for  a  gentleman,  and  that's  not 
grubbing  in  the  ground.  Of  course,  this  is  Aydelot  soil. 
It  couldn't  belong  to  anybody  else.  I  never  would  sell  a 
foot  of  it  to  Cloverdale  to  let  the  town  build  this  way.  I'd 
as  soon  sell  to  a  Thaine  from  Virginia  as  I'd  sell  to  that 
town." 

He  waved  a  hand  toward  the  fields  shut  in  by  heavy 
woodlands,  where  the  shadows  were  already  black.  After 
a  moment  he  continued: 

"  Everything  is  settled  for  you,  Asher.  I've  been  pretty 
careful  and  lucky,  too,  in  some  ways.  The  men  who  didn't 
go  to  war  had  the  big  chances  at  money  making,  you  know. 
While  you  were  off  fighting,  I  was  improving  the  time  here. 
I've  done  it  fairly,  though.  I  never  dodged  a  law  in  my 


8  Winning  the  Wilderness 

life,  nor  met  a  man  into  whose  eyes  I  couldn't  look 
squarely." 

As  he  spoke,  the  blood  left  Asher's  cheeks  and  his  face 
grew  gray  under  the  tan. 

"Father,  do  you  think  a  man  who  fights  for  his  country 
is  to  be  accounted  below  the  man  who  stays  at  home  and 
makes  money?" 

"Well,  he  certainly  can  do  more  for  his  children  than 
some  of  those  who  went  to  this  war  can  do  for  their 
fathers,"  Francis  Aydelot  declared.  "  Suppose  I  was  help 
less  and  poor  now,  what  could  you  do  for  me  ?  " 

There  was  no  attempt  at  reply,  and  the  father  went  on : 
"  I  have  prepared  your  work  for  you.  You  must  begin  it 
at  once.  Years  ago  Cloverdale  set  up  a  hotel,  a  poor 
enough  tavern  even  for  those  days,  but  it  robbed  me  of  the 
patronage  this  house  had  before  that  time,  and  I  had  to 
go  to  farming.  Every  kind  of  drudgery  I've  had  to  do 
here.  Cutting  down  forests,  and  draining  swamps  is  a 
back-breaking  business.  I  never  could  forgive  the  founders 
for  stopping  by  Clover  Creek,  when  they  might  have  gone 
twenty  miles  further  on  where  a  town  was  needed  and  left 
me  here.  But  that's  all  past  now.  I've  improved  the  time. 
I  have  a  good  share  of  stock  in  the  bank  and  I  own  the 
only  hotel  in  Cloverdale.  I  closed  with  Shirley  as  soon 
as  I  heard  you  were  coming  home.  Shirley's  getting  old, 
and  since  Jim  has  gone  there's  no  one  to  help  him  and 
take  his  place  later,  so  he  sold  at  a  very  good  figure.  He 
had  to  sell  for  some  reason,  I  believe.  The  Shirleys  are 
having  some  family  trouble  that  I  don't  understand  nor 
care  about.  You've  always  been  a  sort  of  idol  in  the  town 
anyhow.  Now  that  you  are  to  go  into  the  Shirley  House 


The  Blessing  of  Asher  9 

as  proprietor  I  suppose  Cloverdale  will  take  it  as  a  dis 
pensation  of  Providence  in  their  favor,  and  you  can  live 
like  a  gentleman." 

"  But,  father,  I've  always  liked  the  country  best.  Don't 
you  remember  how  Jim  Shirley  was  always  out  here  instead 
of  my  going  down  town  when  we  were  boys  ?  " 

"  You  are  only  a  boy,  now,  Asher,  and  this  is  all  I'll  hear 
to  your  doing.  You  ought  to  be  thankful  for  having  such 
a  chance  open  to  you.  I  have  leased  the  farm  for  five 
years  and  you  don't  want  to  be  a  hired  man  at  twenty  dol 
lars  a  month,  I  reckon.  Of  course,  the  farm  will  be  yours 
some  day,  unless  you  take  a  notion  to  run  off  to  Virginia 
and  marry  a  Thaine." 

The  last  words  were  said  jokingly,  but  Asher's  mother 
saw  a  sudden  hardening  of  the  lines  of  his  face  as  he  sat 
looking  out  at  the  darkening  landscape. 

There  was  only  a  faint  glow  in  the  west  now.  The  fields 
toward  Cloverdale  were  wrapped  in  twilight  shadows. 
Behind  the  eastern  treetops  the  red  disk  of  the  rising  moon 
was  half  revealed.  Asher  Aydelot  waited  long  before  he 
spoke.  At  length,  he  turned  toward  his  father  with  a  cer 
tain  stiffening  of  his  form,  and  each  felt  a  space  widening 
gulf -wise  between  them. 

"You  stayed  at  home  and  grew  rich,  Father." 

"Well?" 

The  father's  voice  cut  like  a  steel  edge.  He  saw  only 
opposition  to  his  will  here,  but  the  mother  forecasted  the 
end  from  that  moment. 

"Father,  war  gives  us  to  see  bigger  things  than  hatred 
between  two  sections  of  the  country.  There  is  education  in 
it,  too.  That  is  a  part  of  the  compensation.  Once,  when 


10  Winning  the  Wilderness 

our  regiment  was  captured  and  starving,  the  Fifty-fourth 
Virginia  boys  saved  our  lives  by  feeding  us  the  best  supper 
I  ever  tasted.  And  a  Rebel  girl  —  "  he  broke  off  suddenly. 

"  Well,  what  of  all  this  ?  What  are  you  trying  to  say  ?  " 
queried  the  older  man. 

"I'm  trying  to  show  you  that  I  cannot  sit  down  here 
in  the  Shirley  House  and  play  mine  host  any  more  than  I 
could  — "  hesitatingly  — "  marry  a  Cloverdale  girl  on 
demand.  No  Cloverdale  girl  would  have  me  so.  I've  seen 
too  much  of  the  country  for  such  a  position,  Father.  Let 
the  men  who  staid  at  home  do  the  little  jobs." 

He  had  not  meant  to  say  all  this,  but  the  stretch  of 
boundless  green  prairies  was  before  his  eyes,  the  memory 
of  heroic  action  where  men  utterly  forget  themselves  was 
in  his  mind,  making  life  in  that  little  Ohio  settlement  seem 
only  a  boy's  pastime,  to  be  put  away  with  other  childish 
things.  While  night  and  day,  in  the  battle  clamor,  in  the 
little  college  class  room,  on  boundless  prairie  billows,  among 
lonely  sand  dunes  —  everywhere,  he  carried  the  memory  of 
the  gentle  touch  of  the  hand  of  a  rebel  girl,  who  had  visited 
him  when  he  was  sick  and  in  prison.  And  withal,  he 
resented  dictation,  as  all  the  Aydelots  and  Penningtons 
before  him  had  done. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  "  his  father  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  yet  what  I  can  do.  I  only  know  what  I 
cannot  do." 

"And  that  is—?" 

"Just  what  I  have  said.  I  cannot  be  a  tavern  keeper 
here  the  rest  of  my  days  with  -nothing  to  do  half  of  the 
time  except  to  watch  the  men  pitch  horseshoes  behind  the 
blacksmith  shop,  and  listen  to  the  flies  buzz  in  the  windows 


The  Blessing  of  Asher  11 

on  summer  afternoons;  and  everything  else  so  quiet  and 
dead  you  don't  know  whether  you  are  on  the  street  or  in 
the  graveyard.  If  you'd  ever  crossed  the  Mississippi  River 
you'd  understand  why." 

"  Well,  I  haven't,  and  I  don't  understand.  But  the  only 
way  to  stop  this  roving  is  to  make  a  home  of  your  own. 
Will  you  tell  me  how  you  expect  to  support  a  Cloverdale 
girl  when  you  marry  one  ?  " 

"  I  don't  expect  to  marry  one."  The  smile  was  winning, 
but  the  son's  voice  sounded  dangerously  like  the  father's. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  when  I  marry  it  will  be  to  a  southern  girl  —  " 
Asher  hesitated  a  moment.  When  he  went  on,  his  voice  was 
not  as  son  to  father,  but  as  man  to  man. 

"  It  all  happened  down  in  Virginia,  when  I  was  wounded 
and  in  prison.  This  little  girl  took  care  of  me.  Only  a 
soldier  really  knows  what  a  woman's  hand  means  in  sick 
ness.  But  she  did  more.  She  risked  everything,  even  her 
life,  to  get  letters  through  the  lines  to  you  and  to  get 
me  exchanged.  I  shiver  yet  when  I  think  of  her,  dis 
guised  as  a  man  in  soldier's  clothes,  taking  the  chance 
she  did  for  me.  And,  well,  I  left  my  heart  down  there. 
That's  all." 

"Why  haven't  you  ever  told  us  this  before,  Asher?" 
his  father  asked. 

Asher  stcod  up  where  the  white  moonlight  fell  full  on 
his  face.  Somehow  the  old  Huguenot  defiance  and  the  old 
Quaker  endurance  of  his  ancestors  seemed  all  expressed 
in  him. 

"I  wasn't  twenty-one,  then,  and  I  have  nothing  yet  to 
offer  a  girl  by  way  of  support,"  he  said. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"Why,  Asher!"  Mrs.  Aydelot  exclaimed,  "you  have 
everything  here." 

"Not  yet,  mother,"  he  replied.  "And  I  haven't  told 
you  because  her  name  is  Virginia  Thaine,  and  she  is  a 
descendant  of  Jerome  Thaine.  Are  the  Aydelots  big 
enough  to  bury  old  hates?" 

Francis  Aydelot  sat  moveless  as  a  statue.  When  at 
length  he  spoke,  there  was  no  misunderstanding  his  mean 
ing. 

"You  have  no  means  by  which  to  earn  a  living.  You 
will  go  down  to  town  and  take  charge  of  the  Shirley  House 
at  once,  or  go  to  work  as  a  hired  hand  here.  But  remem 
ber  this:  from  the  day  you  marry  a  Thaine  of  Virginia 
you  are  no  longer  my  son.  Family  ties,  family  honor, 
respect  for  your  forefathers  forbid  it." 

He  rose  without  more  words,  and  went  into  the  house. 

Then  came  the  mother's  part. 

"  Sit  down,  Asher,"  she  said,  and  Asher  dropped  to  his 
place  on  the  step. 

"  We  don't  seem  to  see  life  through  the  same  spectacles," 
he  said  calmly.  "Am  I  wrong,  mother?  Nobody  can 
choose  my  life  for  me,  nor  my  wife,  either.  Didn't  old 
grandfather,  Jean  Aydelot,  leave  his  home  in  France,  and 
didn't  grandmother,  Mercy  Pennington,  marry  to  suit  her 
own  choice?" 

Even  in  the  shadow,  his  mother  noted  the  patient  expres 
sion  of  the  gray  eyes  looking  up  at  her. 

"  Asher,  it  is  Aydelot  tradition  to  be  determined  and  self- 
willed,  and  the  bitterness  against  Jerome  Thaine  and  his 
descendants  has  never  left  the  blood  —  till  now." 

She  stroked  his  hair  lovingwise,  as  mothers  will  ever  do. 


The  Blessing  of  Asher  13 

"  Do  you  suppose  father  will  ever  change  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  he  will.  We  have  talked  of  this  many 
times,  and  he  will  listen  to  nothing  else.  He  grows  more 
set  in  his  notions  as  we  all  do  with  years,  unless — " 

"Well,  you  don't,  mother.  Unless  what?"  Asher 
asked. 

"  Unless  we  think  broadly  as  the  years  broaden  out 
toward  old  age.  But,  Asher,  what  are  your  plans?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  have  none  yet.  You  know  I  was  a  farmer 
boy  until  I  was  fifteen,  a  soldier  boy  till  I  was  nineteen,  a 
college  student  for  two  years,  and  a  Plains  scout  for  two 
years  more.  Tell  me,  mother,  what  does  all  this  fit  me 
for?  Not  for  a  tavern  in  a  town  of  less  than  a  thousand 
people." 

He  sat  waiting,  his  elbow  resting  on  his  knee,  his  chin 
supported  by  his  closed  hand. 

"  Asher,  when  you  left  school  and  went  out  West,  I  fore 
saw  what  has  happened  tonight,"  Mrs.  Aydelot  began.  "  I 
tried  to  prepare  your  father  for  it,  but  he  would  not  listen, 
would  not  understand.  He  doesn't  yet.  He  never  will. 
But  I  do.  You  will  not  stay  in  Ohio  always,  because  you 
do  not  fit  in  here  now.  Newer  states  keep  calling  you  west 
ward,  westward.  This  was  frontier  when  we  came  here  in 
the  thirties ;  we  belong  here.  But,  sooner  or  later,  you  will 
put  your  life  into  the  building  of  the  West.  Some 
thing —  the  War  or  the  Plains,  or  may  be  this  Virginia 
Thaine,  has  left  you  too  big  for  prejudice.  You  will 
go  sometime  where  there  is  room  to  think  and  live  as  you 
believe." 

"  Mother,  may  I  go  ?  I  dream  of  it  night  and  day.  I'm 
so  cramped  here.  The  woods  are  in  my  way.  I  can't  see  a 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


mile.  I  want  to  see  to  the  edge  of  the  world,  as  I  can  on 
the  prairies.  A  man  can  win  a  kingdom  out  there." 

He  was  facing  her  now,  his  whole  countenance  aglow 
with  bright  anticipation. 

"There  is  only  one  way  to  win  that  kingdom,"  Mrs. 
Aydelot  declared.  "  The  man  who  takes  hold  of  the  plow- 
handles  is  the  man  who  will  really  conquer  the  prairies. 
His  scepter  is  not  the  rifle,  but  the  hoe." 

For  all  his  life,  Asher  Aydelot  never  forgot  his  mother's 
face,  nor  the  sound  of  her  low  prophetic  words  on  that 
moonlit  night  on  the  shadowy  veranda  of  his  childhood 
home. 

"  You  are  right,  mother.  I  don't  want  to  fight  any  more. 
It  must  be  the  soil  that  is  calling  me  back  to  the  West,  the 
big,  big  West!  And  I  mean  to  go  when  the  time  comes. 
I  hope  it  will  come  soon,  and  I  know  you  will  give  me  your 
blessing  then." 

His  mother's  hands  were  pressed  lovingly  upon  his  fore 
head,  as  he  leaned  against  her  knee. 

"My  blessing,  and  more  than  mine.  The  blessing  of 
Moses  to  Asher  of  old,  as  well.  'Thy  shoes  shall  be  iron 
and  brass  ;  and  as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.  The 
eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlast 
ing  arms.'  * 

She  bent  over  her  boy,  and  pushing  back  the  hair  from 
his  forehead,  she  kissed  it  reverently,  nor  dreamed  in  how 
many  a  bitter  strife  would  the  memory  of  this  sacred  hour 
come  back  to  him,  with  the  blessed  note  of  victory. 

The  next  morning  Asher  put  on  his  working  clothes  and 
began  the  life  of  a  hired  man  on  his  father's  farm.  The 
summer  was  long  and  hot,  and  in  the  late  August  the  dread 


The  Blessing  of  Asher  15 

typhoid  malaria  swept  up  from  the  woods  marshes.  It  was 
of  virulent  form  and  soon  had  its  way  with  Asher's  father 
and  mother. 

When  the  will  of  Francis  Aydelot  was  read  in  court,  the 
inexorable  will  of  a  stubborn  man,  it  declared  that  the 
Cloverdale  Hotel,  the  bank  stock,  and  the  farm  with  all  the 
appurtenances  thereunto  pertaining,  should  descend  to 
Asher  Aydelot,  provided  he  should  remain  a  resident  of 
Ohio  and  should  never  be  united  in  marriage  to  any 
descendant  of  Jerome  Thaine  of  the  State  of  Virginia. 
Failing  in  this,  all  the  property,  except  a  few  hundred 
dollars  in  cash,  should  descend  to  one  Jane  Aydelot,  of 
Philadelphia,  and  her  heirs  and  assigns  forever;  provided 
these  heirs  were  not  the  children  of  Virginia  Thaine  of  the 
state  of  Virginia. 

On  the  same  day,  Asher  wrote  to  one  Jane  Aydelot,  of 
Philadelphia,  to  come  to  Ohio  and  take  possession  of  her 
property.  Then  he  carefully  sodded  the  two  mounds  in 
the  graveyard,  and  planted  old-fashioned  sweet  pinks  upon 
them,  and  bidding  good-by  to  the  home  of  his  boyhood,  he 
turned  his  face  hopefully  to  the  West. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SIGN  OF  THE   SUNFLOWER 

Little  they  knew  what  wealth  untold 
Lay  hid  where  the  desolate  prairies  rolled: 
Who  would  have  dared,  with  brush  or  pen, 
As  this  land  is  now,  to  paint  it  then? 

— ALLERTON. 

THE  trail  had  left  the  woodland  far  to  the  eastward, 
and  wound  its  way  over  broad  prairie  billows,  past 
bluffy-banked  streams,  along  crests  of  low  watersheds, 
until  at  last  it  slid  down  into  an  open  endlessness  of  the 
Lord's  earth  —  just  a  vasty  bigness  of  landstuff  seemingly 
left  over  when  geography-making  was  done.  It  was 
untamed  stuff,  too,  whereon  one  man's  marking  was  like  to 
the  track  of  foam  in  the  wake  of  one  ship  in  mid-ocean. 
Upon  its  face  lay  the  trail,  broad  and  barren  of  growth  as 
the  dusty  old  National  pike  road  making  its  way  across 
uplands  and  valleys  of  Ohio.  But  this  was  the  only  likeness. 
The  pike  was  a  gravel-built,  upgraded  highway,  bordered 
by  little  rail-fenced  fields  and  deep  forests  hiding  malarial 
marshes  in  the  lower  places. 

This  trail,  flat  along  the  ungraded  ground,  tended  in  the 
direction  of  least  resistance,  generally  toward  the  south 
west.  It  was  bounded  by  absence  of  landmarks,  boulder  or 
tree  or  cliff.  Along  either  side  of  it  was  a  fringe  of  spin 
dling  sunflower  stalks,  with  their  blooms  of  gold  marking 
two  gleaming  threads  across  the  plains  far  toward  the 
misty  nothingness  of  the  western  horizon. 

16 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower  17 

The  mid-September  day  had  been  intensely  hot,  but  the 
light  air  was  beginning  to  flow  a  bit  refreshingly  out  of 
the  sky.  A  gray  cloud-wave,  creeping  tide-like  up  from  the 
southwest,  was  tempering  the  afternoon  glare.  In  all  the 
landscape  the  only  object  to  hold  the  eye  was  a  prairie 
schooner  drawn  by  a  team  of  hard-mouthed  little  Indian 
ponies,  and  followed  by  a  free-limbed  black  mare  of  the 
Kentucky  blue  blood. 

Asher  Aydelot  sat  on  the  wagon  seat  holding  the  reins. 
Beside  him  was  his  wife,  a  young,  girlish-looking  woman 
with  large  dark  eyes,  abundant  dark  hair,  a  straight,  aristo 
cratic  nose,  and  well-formed  mouth  and  chin. 

The  two,  coming  in  from  the  East  on  the  evening  before, 
had  reached  the  end  of  the  stage  line,  where  Asher's  team 
and  wagon  was  waiting  for  them. 

The  outfit  moved  slowly.  It  had  left  Carey's  Crossing 
at  early  dawn  and  had  put  twenty-five  miles  between  itself 
and  that  last  outpost  of  civilization. 

"  Why  don't  you  let  the  horses  trot  down  this  hill  slope, 
Asher?"  The  woman's  voice  had  the  soft  accent  of  the 
South. 

"Are  you  tired,  Virgie?"  Asher  Aydelot  looked  ear 
nestly  down  at  his  wife. 

"  Not  a  bit ! "  The  bright  smile  and  vigorous  lift  of  the 
shoulders  were  assuring. 

"Then  we  won't  hurry.  We  have  several  miles  to  go 
yet.  It  is  a  long  day's  run  from  Carey's  to  our  claim. 
Wolf  County  is  almost  like  a  state.  The  Crossing  hopes  to 
become  the  county  seat." 

"Why  do  they  call  that  place  Carey's  Crossing?"  Mrs. 
Aydelot  asked. 

"  It  was  a  trading  post  once  where  the  north  and  south 


18  Winning  the  Wilderness 

trail  crossed  the  main  trail.  Later  it  was  a  rallying  place 
for  cavalry.  Now  it's  our  postofficc,"  Asher  explained. 

"I  mean,  why  call  it  Carey?  I  knew  Careys  back  in 
Virginia." 

"It  is  named  for  a  young  doctor,  the  only  one  in  ten 
thousand  miles,  so  far  as  I  know." 

61  And  his  family  ?  "  Virginia  asked. 

"  He's  a  bachelor,  I  believe.  By  the  way,  we  aren't  going 
down  hill.  We  are  on  level  ground." 

Mrs.  Aydelot  leaned  out  beyond  the  wagon  bows  to  take 
in  the  trail  behind  them. 

"Why,  we  are  right  in  a  big  saucer.  All  the  land 
slopes  to  the  center  down  there  before  us.  Can't  you 
see  it?" 

"No,  I've  seen  it  too  often.  It  is  just  a  trick  of  the 
plains  —  one  of  the  many  tricks  for  the  eye  out  here.  Look 
at  the  sunflowers,  Virgie.  Don't  you  love  them  ?  " 

Virginia  Aydelot  nestled  close  to  her  husband's  side  and 
put  one  hand  on  his.  It  was  a  little  hand,  white  and  soft, 
the  hand  of  a  lady  born  of  generations  of  gentility.  The 
hand  it  rested  on  was  big  and  hard  and  brown  and  very 
strong  looking. 

"I've  always  loved  them  since  the  day  you  sent  me  the 
little  one  in  a  letter,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  some  one 
might  overhear.  "  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me  and 
the  old  war  days.  I  wasn't  very  happy  then."  There  was 
a  quiver  of  the  lip  that  hinted  at  the  memory  of  intense 
sorrow.  "  I  had  gone  up  to  the  spring  in  that  cool  little 
glen  in  the  mountain  behind  our  home,  you  know,  when  a 
neighbor's  servant  boy,  Bo  Peep,  Boanerges  Peeperville,  he 
named  himself,  came  grinning  round  a  big  rock  ledge  with 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower  19 

your  letter.  Just  a  crushed  little  sunflower  and  a  sticky  old 
card,  the  deuce  of  hearts.  I  knew  it  was  from  you,  and  I 
loved  the  sunflower  for  telling  me  so.  Were  you  near  here 
then?  This  land  looks  so  peaceful  and  beautiful  to  me, 
and  homelike  somehow,  as  if  we  should  find  some  neighbors 
just  over  the  hill  that  you  say  isn't  there." 

"  Neither  the  hill  nor  the  neighbors,  yet,  although  set 
tlers  will  be  coming  soon.  We  won't  be  lonesome  very  long, 
Fixture." 

Asher  shifted  the  reins  to  his  other  hand  and  held  the 
little  white  fingers  close. 

"  It  wasn't  anywhere  near  here.  It  was  away  off  in  the 
southwest  corner  of  —  nowhere.  I  was  going  to  say  a 
shorter  word,  for  that's  where  we  were.  I  took  that  card 
out  of  an  old  deck  from  the  man  nearest  me.  The 
Comanches  had  fixed  him,  so  he  didn't  need  it  in  his  game 
any  more.  There  were  only  two  of  us  left,  a  big  half-breed 
Cheyenne  scout  and  myself.  I  picked  the  sunflower  from 
the  only  stalk  within  a  hundred  miles  of  there.  I  guess  it 
grew  so  far  from  everything  just  for  me  that  day.  Weak 
as  I  was,  I'll  never  forget  how  hopefully  it  seemed  to  look 
at  me.  The  envelope  was  one  mother  had  sent  me,  you 
remember.  I  told  the  Cheyenne  how  to  start  it  to  you  from 
the  fort.  He  left  me  there,  wounded  and  alone  —  'twas  all 
he  could  do  —  while  he  went  for  help  about  a  thousand  miles 
away  it  must  have  seemed,  even  to  an  Indian.  I  thought  it 
was  my  last  message  to  you,  dearie,  for  I  never  expected 
to  be  found  alive;  but  I  was,  and  when  you  wrote  back, 
sending  your  letter  to  'The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower,' 
Oh,  little  girl,  the  old  trail  blossom  was  glorified  for  me 
forever." 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


He  broke  off  so  suddenly  that  his  wife  looked  up 
inquiringly. 

"I  was  thinking  of  the  cool  spring  and  the  rocks,  and 
that  shady  glen,  and  the  mountains,  and  the  trees,  and  the 
well-kept  mansion  houses,  and  servants  like  Bo  Peep  to 
fetch  and  carry  —  and  here  —  Virginia,  why  did  you  let 
me  persuade  you  away  from  them?  Everything  was  made 
ready  for  you  there.  The  Lord  didn't  do  anything  for  this 
country  but  go  off  and  leave  it  to  us." 

"Yes,  to  us.  Here  is  the  sunflower  and  the  new  home 
in  the  new  West  and  Asher  Aydelot.  And  underfoot  is  the 
prairie  sod  that  is  ours,  and  overhead  is  heaven  that  kept 
watch  over  you  for  me,  and  over  both  of  us  for  this.  And 
I  persuaded  you  to  bring  me  here  because  I  wanted  to  be 
with  you  always.'* 

"You  can  face  it  all  for  me?"  he  asked. 

"  With  you,  you  mean.  Yes,  for  we'll  stop  at  '  The  Sign 
of  the  Sunflower '  so  long  as  we  both  shall  live.  How  beau 
tiful  they  are,  these  endless  bands  of  gold,  drawing  us  on 
and  on  across  the  plains.  Asher,  you  forget  that  Virginia 
is  not  as  it  was  before  the  war.  But  we  did  keep  inherited 
pride  in  the  Thaine  family,  and  the  will  to  do  as  we  pleased. 
You  see  what  has  pleased  me." 

"And  it  shall  please  me  to  make  such  a  fortune  out  of 
this  ground,  and  build  such  a  home  for  you  that  by  and  by 
you  will  forget  you  ever  were  without  the  comforts  you  are 
giving  up  now,"  Asher  declared,  looking  equal  to  the  task. 
"  Virgie,"  he  added  presently,  "  on  the  night  my  mother 
told  me  to  come  out  West  she  gave  me  her  blessing,  and  the 
blessing  of  the  old  Bible  Asher  also  —  'Thy  shoes  shall  be 
iron  and  brass;  and  as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.' 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower 


I  believe  the  blessing  will  stay  with  us;  that  the  Eternal 
God  will  be  our  refuge  in  this  new  West  and  new  home- 
building." 

They  rode  awhile  in  silence.     Then  Asher  said: 

"  Look  yonder,  Virginia,  south  of  the  trail.  Just  a  faint 
yellow  line." 

"  Is  it  another  trail,  or  are  you  lost  and  beginning  to  see 
things?" 

"No,  I'm  found,"  Asher  replied.  "We  scattered  those 
seeds  ourselves  ;  did  it  on  Sundays  when  I  was  living  on  my 
claim,  waiting  till  I  could  go  back  and  bring  you  here.  We 
blazed  the  way,  marked  it  with  gold,  I'd  better  say  ;  a  line 
clear  to  Grass  River.  It  leaves  the  real  Sunflower  Trail 
right  here." 

"Who  were  we  in  this  planting?"  Virginia  asked. 

"  Oh,  me  and  my  first  wife,  Jim  Shirley,  and  his  shepherd 
dog,  Pilot.  Jim  and  I  have  done  several  things  together 
besides  that.  We  were  boys  together  back  in  Cloverdale. 
We  went  to  the  war  together  to  fight  you  obstreperous 
Rebels."  There  was  a  twinkle  in  Asher's  eyes  now. 

"  Yes,  but  in  the  end  who  really  won  ?  "  Virginia  asked 
demurely. 

"You  did,  of  course  —  in  my  case.  Jim  went  back  to 
Cloverdale  for  awhile.  Then  he  came  out  here.  He's  a  fine 
fellow.  Plants  a  few  more  seeds  by  the  wayside  than  is 
good  for  him,  maybe,  but  a  friend  to  the  last  rollcall.  He 
was  quite  a  ladies'  man  once,  and  nobody  knows  but  himself 
how  much  he  would  have  loved  a  home.  He  has  something 
of  a  story  back  of  his  coming  West,  but  we  never  speak 
of  that.  He's  our  only  neighbor  now." 

It  was  twilight  when  Asher  and  his  wife  slipped  down 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


over  a  low  swell  and  reached  their  home.  The  afterglow 
of  sunset  was  gorgeous  in  the  west.  The  gray  cloud-tide, 
now  a  purple  sea,  was  rifted  by  billows  of  flame.  Level 
mist-folds  of  pale  violet  lay  along  the  prairie  distances.  In 
the  southwest  the  horizon  line  was  broken  by  a  triple  fold 
of  deepest  blue-black  tones,  the  mark  of  headlands  some 
where.  Across  the  landscape  a  grassy  outline  marked  the 
course  of  a  stream  that  wandered  dimly  toward  the  dark 
ening  night  shadows.  The  subdued  tones  of  evening  held 
all  the  scene,  save  where  a  group  of  tall  sunflowers  stood 
up  to  catch  the  last  light  of  day  full  on  their  golden  shields. 

"  We  are  here  at  last,  Mrs.  Aydelot.  Welcome  to  our 
neighborhood  !  "  Asher  said  bravely  as  the  team  halted. 

Virginia  sat  still  on  the  wagon  seat,  taking  in  the  view 
of  sunset  sky  and  twilight  prairie. 

"  This  is  our  home,"  she  murmured.  "  I'm  glad  we  are 
here." 

"I'm  glad  you  are  glad.  I  hope  I  haven't  misrepre 
sented  it  to  you,"  her  husband  responded,  turning  away 
that  he  might  not  see  her  face  just  then. 

It  was  a  strange  place  to  call  home,  especially  to  one 
whose  years  had  been  spent  mainly  in  the  pretty  mountain- 
willed  Virginia  valleys  where  cool  brooks  babbled  over 
pebbly  beds  or  splashed  down  in  crystal  waterfalls;  whose 
childhood  home  had  been  an  old  colonial  house  with  drive 
ways,  and  pillared  verandas,  and  jessamine-wreathed  win 
dows;  with  soft  carpets  and  cushioned  chairs,  and  cande 
labra  whose  glittering  pendants  reflected  the  light  in  pris 
matic  tintings  ;  and  everywhere  the  lazy  ease  of  idle  servants 
and  unhurried  lives. 

The  little  sod  house,  nestled  among  sheltering  sunflowers, 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower 


stood  on  a  slight  rise  of  ground.  It  contained  one  room 
with  two  windows,  one  looking  to  the  east  and  the  other  to 
the  west,  and  a  single  door  opening  on  the  south.  Above 
this  door  was  a  smooth  pine  board  bearing  the  inscription, 
"  Sunflower  Inn,"  stained  in  rather  artistic  lettering.  A 
low  roof  extending  over  the  doorway  gave  semblance  to  a 
porch  which  some  scorched  vines  had  vainly  tried  to  dec 
orate.  There  was  a  rude  seat  made  of  a  goods  box  beside 
the  doorway.  Behind  the  house  rose  the  low  crest  of  a 
prairie  billow,  hardly  discernible  on  the  level  plains.  Before 
it  lay  the  endless  prairie  across  which  ran  the  now  half -dry, 
grass-choked  stream.  A  few  stunted  cottonwood  trees  fol 
lowed  its  windings,  and  one  little  clump  of  wild  plum  bushes 
bristled  in  a  draw  leading  down  to  the  shallow  place  of  the 
dry  watercourse.  All  else  was  distance  and  vastness  void 
of  life  and  utter  loneliness. 

Virginia  Aydelot  looked  at  the  scene  before  her.  Then 
she  turned  to  her  husband  with  a  smile  on  her  young  face, 
saying  again, 

"  I  am  glad  I  am  here." 

There  is  one  chord  that  every  woman's  voice  touches 
some  time,  no  matter  what  her  words  may  be.  As  Virginia 
spoke,  Asher  saw  again  the  moonlight  on  the  white  pillars 
of  the  south  veranda  of  the  old  Aydelot  farmhouse,  and  his 
mother  sitting  in  the  shadows ;  and  again  he  caught  the 
tone  of  her  voice  saying, 

"  Thy  shoes  shall  be  iron  and  brass ;  and  as  thy  days,  so 
shall  thy  strength  be." 

He  leaped  from  the  wagon  seat  and  put  up  his  arms  to 
help  his  wife  to  the  ground. 

"  This  is  the  end  of  the  trail,"  he  said  gaily.     "  We  have 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


reached  the  inn  with  '  The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower.'  See  the 
signboard  Jim  has  put  up  for  us." 

At  that  moment  a  big  shepherd  dog  came  bounding  out 
of  the  weeds  by  the  river  and  leaped  toward  them  with 
joyous  yelps;  a  light  shone  through  the  doorway,  and  a 
voice  at  once  deep  and  pleasant  to  the  ear,  called  out  : 

"Well,  here  you  are,  just  as  supper  is  ready.  Present 
me  to  the  bride,  Asher,  and  then  I'll  take  the  stock  off  your 
hands." 

"  Mrs.  Aydelot,  this  is  Mr.  James  Shirley,  at  present  the 
leading  artistic  house  decorator  as  well  as  corn  king  of  the 
Southwest.  Allow  me,  Jim,  to  present  my  wife.  You  two 
ought  to  like  each  other  if  each  of  you  can  stand  me." 

They  shook  hands  cordially,  and  each  took  the  other's 
measure  at  a  glance.  What  Shirley  saw  was  a  small,  well- 
dressed  woman  whose  charm  wras  a  positive  force.  It  was 
not  merely  that  she  was  well-bred  and  genial  of  manner, 
nor  that  for  many  reasons  she  was  pretty  and  would  always 
be  pretty,  even  with  gray  hair  and  wrinkles.  There  was 
something  back  of  all  this  ;  something  definite  to  build  on  ; 
a  self-reliance  and  unbreakable  determination  without  the 
spirit  that  antagonizes. 

"A  thoroughbred,"  was  Shirley's  mental  comment. 
"The  manners  of  a  lady  and  the  will  of  a  winner." 

What  Virginia  saw  was  a  big,  broad-shouldered  man, 
tanned  to  the  very  limit  of  brownness,  painfully  clean 
shaven,  and  grotesquely  clean  in  dress  ;  a  white  shirt,  inno 
cent  of  bluing  in  its  laundry,  a  glistening  celluloid  collar, 
a  black  necktie  (the  last  two  features  evidently  just  added 
to  the  toilet,  and  neither  as  yet  set  to  their  service),  dark 
pantaloons  and  freshly  blacked  shoes.  But  it  was  Shirley's 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower  25 

face  that  caught  Virginia's  eyes,  for  even  with  the  tan  it 
was  a  handsome  face,  with  regular  features,  and  blue  eyes 
seeing  life  deeply  rather  than  broadly.  Just  a  hint  of  the 
artistic,  however,  took  away  from  rather  than  added  to  the 
otherwise  manly  expression.  Clearly,  Jim  Shirley  was  a 
man  that  men  and  women,  too,  must  love  if  they  cared  for 
him  at  all.  And  they  couldn't  help  caring  for  him.  He 
had  too  much  of  the  quality  of  eternal  interest. 

"  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  and  I  bid  you  welcome  to  your 
new  home,  Mrs.  Aydelot.  The  house  is  in  order  and  supper 
is  ready.  I  congratulate  you,  Asher,"  he  said,  as  he  turned 
away  to  take  the  ponies. 

"  You  will  come  in  and  eat  with  us,"  Virginia  said 
cordially. 

"Not  tonight.  I  must  put  this  stock  away  and  hurry 
home." 

Asher  opened  his  lips  to  repeat  his  wife's  invitation,  but 
something  in  Jim's  face  held  the  words,  so  he  merely  nodded 
a  good-by  as  he  led  his  wife  into  the  sod  cabin. 

Two  decades  in  Kansas  saw  hundreds  of  such  cabins  on 
the  plains.  The  walls  of  this  one  were  nearly  two  feet  thick 
and  smoothly  plastered  inside  with  a  gypsum  product,  giv 
ing  an  ivory-yellow  finish,  smooth  and  hard  as  bone.  There 
was  no  floor  but  the  bare  earth  into  which  a  nail  could 
scarcely  have  been  driven.  The  furniture  was  meager  and 
plain.  There  was  only  one  picture  on  the  wall,  the  sweet 
face  of  Asher's  mother.  A  bookshelf  held  a  Bible  with  two 
or  three  other  volumes,  some  newspapers  and  a  magazine. 
Sundry  surprising  little  devices  showed  the  inventive  skill 
of  the  home-builder,  but  it  was  all  home-made  and  un- 
painted.  It  must  have  been  the  eyes  of  love  that  made  this 


26  Winning  the  Wilderness 

place  seem  home-like  to  these  young  people  whose  early 
environment  had  been  so  vastly  different  in  everything ! 

Jim  Shirley  had  a  supper  of  fried  ham,  stewed  wild 
plums,  baked  sweet  potatoes,  and  hot  coffee,  with  canned 
peaches  and  some  hard  little  cookies.  Surely  the  Lord 
meant  men  to  be  the  cooks.  Society  started  wrong  in  the 
kitchen,  for  the  average  man  prepares  a  better  meal  with 
less  of  effort  and  worry  than  the  average  or  super-average 
woman  will  ever  do.  It  was  not  the  long  ride  alone,  it  was 
this  appetizing  food  that  made  that  first  meal  in  the  sod 
mansion  one  that  these  two  remembered  in  days  of  dif 
ferent  fortune.  They  remembered,  too,  the  bunch  of 
sunflowers  that  adorned  the  table  that  night.  The  vase 
was  the  empty  peach  can  wrapped  round  with  a  piece  of 
newspaper. 

As  they  lingered  at  their  meal,  Asher  glanced  through 
the  little  west  window  and  saw  Jim  Shirley  sitting  by  the 
clump  of  tall  sunflowers  not  far  away  watching  them  with 
the  eager  face  of  a  lonely  man.  A  big  white-throated 
Scotch  collie  lay  beside  him,  waiting  patiently  for  his 
master  to  start  for  home. 

"  I  am  glad  Jim  has  Pilot,"  Asher  thought.  "A  dog  is 
better  than  no  company  at  all.  I  wish  he  had  a  wife.  Poor 
lonely  fellow ! " 

Half  an  hour  later  the  two  came  outside  to  the  seat  by 
the  doorway.  The  moon  was  filling  the  sky  with  its  radi 
ance.  A  chorus  of  crickets  sang  joyously  in  the  short 
brown  grass  about  the  sunflowers.  The  cottonwoods  along 
the  river  course  gleamed  like  alabaster  in  the  white  night- 
splendor,  and  the  prairie  breeze  sang  its  low  crooning  song 
of  evening  as  it  flowed  gently  over  the  land. 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower 


"  How  beautiful  the  world  is,"  Virginia  said,  as  she 
caught  the  full  radiance  of  the  light  on  the  prairie. 

"Is  this  beautiful  to  you,  Virgie?"  Asher  asked,  as  he 
drew  her  close  to  him.  "  I've  seen  these  plains  when  they 
seemed  just  plain  hell  to  me,  full  of  every  kind  of  danger: 
cholera,  poison,  cold,  hunger,  heat,  hostile  Indian,  and  awful 
loneliness.  And  yet,  the  very  fascination  of  the  thing 
called  me  back  and  hardened  me  to  it  all.  But  why?  What 
is  there  here  on  these  Kansas  prairies  to  hold  me  here  and 
make  me  want  to  bring  you  here,  too?  Not  a  feature  of 
this  land  is  like  the  home  country  in  Virginia.  When  the 
Lord  gave  Adam  and  Eve  a  tryout  in  the  Garden  of  Eden, 
He  gave  them  everything  with  which  to  start  the  world  off 
right.  Out  here  we  doubt  sometimes  if  there  is  any  God 
west  of  the  Missouri  River.  He  didn't  leave  any  timber  for 
shelter,  nor  wood,  nor  coal  for  fuel,  nor  fruit,  nor  nuts, 
nor  roots,  nor  water  for  the  dry  land.  All  there  is  of  this 
piece  of  the  Lord's  leftovers  is  just  the  prairie  down  here, 
and  the  sky  over  it.  And  it's  so  big  I  wonder  sometimes 
that  there  is  even  enough  skystuff  to  cover  it.  And  yet,  it 
is  beautiful  and  maddening  in  its  hold,  once  it  gets  you. 
Why?" 

"Maybe  it  is  the  very  unconquerableness  that  cries  out 
to  the  love  of  power  in  you.  Maybe  the  Lord,  who  knew 
how  easily  Adam  let  Eden  slip  through  his  fingers,  decided 
that  on  the  other  side  of  the  world  He  would  give  a  vounger 
race  of  men,  a  fire-tried  race  in  battle,  the  chance  to  make 
their  own  Eden.  So  He  left  the  stuff  here  for  such  as  you 
and  me  to  picture  out  our  own  plan  and  then  work  to  the 
pattern.  It  is  the  real  land  of  promise.  Everything  wait 
ing  to  be  done  here." 


28  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"And  there's  only  one  way  to  do  it.  I  am  sure  of  that," 
Asher  replied.  "Armies  don't  win,  they  terrorize  and 
destroy.  We  whipped  back  the  Indians  out  here;  they'd 
come  again,  if  they  dared  —  but  they  never  will,"  he  added 
quickly,  as  he  saw  his  wife's  face  whiten  in  the  moonlight. 
"  It's  a  struggle  to  win  the  soil,  with  loneliness  and  distance 
and  a  few  thousand  other  things  to  fight,  beside.  But  I 
told  you  all  this  before  I  asked  you  to  come  out  here." 

"  I  wish  I  could  have  brought  some  property  to  you  to 
help  you,  Asher,  but  you  know  how  the  Thaine  estate  was 
reduced." 

"  Yes,  I  helped  the  family  to  that,"  Asher  replied. 

"Well,  I  seem  to  have  helped  you  to  lose  the  Aydelot 
inheritance.  We  are  starting  neck  and  neck  out  here," 
Virginia  cried,  "  and  we'll  win.  I  can  see  our  plantation  — 
ranch,  you  call  it  —  now,  with  groves  and  a  little  lake  and  a 
big  ranch  house,  and  just  acres  of  wheat  and  meadows,  and 
red  clover  and  fine  stock  and  big  barns,  and  you  and  me,  the 
peers  of  a  proud  countryside  when  we  have  really  con 
quered.  'Instead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the  fir  tree, 
and  instead  of  the  brier  shall  come  up  the  myrtle  tree.' 
Isn't  that  the  promise?  " 

"  Oh,  Virgie,  any  man  could  win  a  kingdom  with  a  wife 
like  you,"  Asher  said  tenderly.  "Back  in  Ohio,  when  I 
grubbed  the  fence  corners,  I  saw  this  country  night  and 
day,  waiting  for  us  here,  and  I  wondered  why  the  folks 
were  willing  to  let  the  marshes  down  in  the  deep  woods  stag 
nate  and  breed  malaria,  and  then  fight  the  fever  with 
calomel  and  quinine  every  summer,  instead  of  opening  the 
woodland  and  draining  the  swamps.  Nevertheless,  I've  left 
enough  money  in  the  Cloverdale  bank  to  take  you  back  East 


The  Sign  of  the  Sunflower  29 

and  start  up  some  little  sort  of  a  living  there,  if  you  find 
you  cannot  stay  here.  I  couldn't  bring  you  here  and  burn 
all  the  bridges.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  say  you  want  to 
go  back,  and  you  can  go." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Asher."  His  wife's  voice  was  low 
and  soft.  "But  I  don't  want  to  go  back.  Not  until  we 
have  failed  here.  And  we  shall  not  fail." 

And  together  that  night  on  the  far  unconquered  plains 
of  Kansas,  with  the  moon  shining  down  upon  them,  these 
two,  so  full  of  hope  and  courage,  planned  their  future. 
In  the  cottonwood  trees  by  the  river  sands  a  night  bird  twit 
tered  sleepily  to  its  mate ;  the  chirp  of  many  crickets  in  the 
short  grass  below  the  sunflowers  had  dwindled  to  a  mere 
note  at  intervals.  The  soft  breeze  caressed  the  two  young 
faces,  then  wandered  far  and  far  across  the  lonely  land,  and 
in  its  long  low-breathed  call  to  the  night  there  was  a  sigh 
of  sadness. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  WILL  OF  THE  WIND 

Naught  but  the  endless  hills,  dim  and  far  and  blue, 
And  sighing  wind,  and  sailing  cloud,  and  nobody  here  but  you. 

—JAMES  W.  STEELE. 

THE  next  day,  and  for  many  days  following,  the  wind 
blew ;  fiercely  and  unceasingly  it  blew,  carrying  every 
movable  thing  before  it.  Whatever  was  tending  in  its  direc 
tion,  it  helped  over  the  ground  amazingly.  Whatever  tried 
to  move  in  the  face  of  it  had  to  fight  for  every  inch  of  the 
way.  It  whipped  all  the  gold  from  the  sunflowers  and 
threshed  them  mercilessly  about.  It  snapped  the  slender 
stems  of  the  big,  bulgy-headed  tumble-weeds  and  sent  them 
tumbling  over  and  over,  mile  after  mile,  until  they  were 
caught  at  last  in  some  draw,  like  helpless  living  things,  to 
swell  the  heap  for  some  prairie  fire  to  feed  upon.  It  lifted 
the  sand  from  the  river  bed  and  swept  it  in  a  prairie  simoon 
up  the  slope,  wrapping  the  little  cabin  in  a  cloud  of  gritty 
dust.  The  cottonwoods  along  the  waterway  moaned  as  if 
in  pain  and  flung  up  their  white  arms  in  feeble  protest. 
The  wild  plum  bushes  in  the  draw  were  almost  buried  by  the 
wind-borne  drift  smothering  the  narrow  crevice,  while  out 
on  the  plains  the  long  lashing  waves  of  bended  grass  made 
the  eyes  burn  with  weariness.  And  the  sun  watched  it  all 
with  unpitying  stare,  and  the  September  heat  was  madden 
ing.  But  it  was  cool  inside  the  cabin.  Sod  houses  shut  out 
the  summer  warmth  as  they  shed  off  the  winter's  cold. 

30 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  31 

Virginia  Aydelot  stood  at  the  west  window  watching  her 
husband  trying  to  carry  two  full  pails  of  water  which  the 
wind  seemed  bent  on  blowing  broadcast  along  his  path.  He 
had  been  plowing  a  double  fireguard  around  the  premises 
that  morning  and  his  face  and  clothes  were  gray  with  dust. 
These  days  of  unceasing  winds  seemed  to  Virginia  to  sap 
the  last  atom  of  her  energy.  But  she  was  young  and  full 
of  determination. 

"Why  did  you  put  the  well  so  far  away,  Asher?"  she 
asked,  as  he  came  inside. 

The  open  door  gave  the  wind  a  new  crevice  to  fill,  and  it 
slapped  wrathfully  at  the  buckets,  splashing  the  contents 
on  the  floor. 

"  We  have  to  put  wells  close  to  the  water  in  this  country. 
I  put  this  one  in  before  I  built  here.  And  if  we  have  a  well, 
we  are  so  glad  we  don't  try  to  move  it.  The  wind  might 
find  it  out  and  fill  it  up  with  sand  while  we  were  doing  it. 
It's  a  jealous  wind,  this."  Asher's  smile  lit  up  his  dust- 
grimed  face. 

"I've  tried  all  day  to  keep  the  dust  off  the  table.  I 
meant  to  do  a  washing  this  morning,  but  how  could  any 
garment  stay  on  the  line  out  there  and  not  be  whipped  to 
shreds?" 

"Virginia,  did  you  ever  do  a  washing  before  the  war?" 
Asher  asked  through  the  towel.  He  was  trying  to  scrub  his 
face  clean  with  the  least  possible  amount  of  water. 

"  Oh,  that's  ancient  history.  No,  nor  did  I  do  anything 
else.  I  was  too  young.  Did  you  ever  try  to  till  a  whole 
section  of  land  back  in  Ohio  before  the  war?"  Virginia 
asked  laughingly. 

Asher  took  the  towel  from  his  head  to  look  at  her. 


32  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"You  are  older  than  when  I  first  knew  you  —  the  little 
lady  of  the  old  Jerome  Thaine  mansion  home.  But  you 
haven't  lost  any  of  that  girl's  charms  and  you  have  gained 
some  new  ones  with  the  years." 

"  Stop  staring  at  me  and  tell  me  why  you  didn't  put  the 
house  down  by  the  well,  then,"  Virginia  demanded. 

"  I  did  pitch  my  tent  there  at  first,  but  it  is  too  near  the 
river,  and  several  things  happened,  beside,"  he  replied. 

"Is  that  a  river,  really?"  she  inquired.  "It  looks  like 
a  weed  trail." 

"Yes,  it  is  very  real  when  it  elects  to  be.  They  call  it 
Grass  River  because  there's  no  grass  in  it  —  only  sand  and 
weeds  —  and  they  call  it  a  river  because  there  is  seldom  any 
water  in  it.  But  I've  seen  such  lazy  sand-foundered  streams 
a  mile  wide  and  swift  as  sin.  So  I  take  no  risk  with  precious 
property,  even  if  I  have  to  tote  barrels  of  water  and  slop 
the  parlor  rug  on  windy  days." 

"  Then,  why  didn't  you  put  another  door  in  the  kitchen 
end  of  the  house  ?  "  Virginia  questioned. 

"  Two  reasons,  dearie.  First,  can  you  keep  one  door 
shut  on  days  like  this,  even  when  there  is  no  draught 
straight  through  the  house?"  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,  when  I  put  a  chair  against  it,  and  the  table  against 
the  chair,  and  the  bed  against  the  table,  and  the  cookstove 
to  back  up  the  bed.  I  see.  Shortage  of  furniture." 

"No,  the  effect  on  this  cabin  if  the  wind  had  a  sweep 
through  two  weak  places  in  the  wall.  I  built  this  thing  to 
stay  till  I  get  ready  to  go  away  from  it,  not  for  it  to  go 
off  and  leave  me  sitting  here  under  the  sky  some  stormy 
day.  Of  course,  the  real  home,  the  old  Colonial  style  of 
house,  will  stand  higher  up  after  awhile,  embowered  in 


The  Will  of  the  Wind 


trees,  and  the  wind  may  play  about  its  vine-covered 
verandas,  and  its  stately  front  columns,  but  that  comes 
later." 

"All  right,  but  what  was  the  second  reason  for  the  one 
doorway  ?  You  said  you  had  two  ?  "  Virginia  broke  in. 

"  Oh,  did  I  ?  Well,  the  other  reason  is  insignificant,  but 
effective  in  its  way.  I  had  only  one  door  and  no  lumber 
within  three  hundred  miles  to  make  another,  and  no  money 
to  buy  lumber,  anyhow." 

"You  should  have  married  a  fortune,"  his  wife  said 
demurely. 

"I  did."  The  smile  on  the  lips  did  not  match  the  look 
in  the  gray  eyes.  "  My  anxiety  is  that  I  shall  not  squander 
my  possession,  now  I  have  it." 

"You  are  squandering  your  dooryard  by  plowing  out 
there  in  front  of  the  house.  Isn't  there  ground  enough  if 
the  wind  will  be  merciful,  not  to  use  up  our  lawn?"  Vir 
ginia  would  not  be  serious. 

"  I  have  plowed  a  double  fireguard,  and  I've  burned  off 
the  grass  between  the  two  to  put  a  wide  band  of  protection 
about  us.  I  take  no  chances.  Everything  is  master  in  the 
wilderness  except  man.  When  he  has  tamed  all  these  things 
—  prairie  fire,  storm  and  drouth,  winds  and  lonely  dis 
tances,  why,  there  isn't  any  more  wilderness.  But  it's 
tough  work  getting  acclimated  to  these  September  breezes, 
I  know." 

Virginia  did  not  reply  at  once.  All  day  the  scream  of 
the  wind  had  whipped  upon  her  nerves  until  she  wanted  to 
scream  herself.  But  it  was  not  in  the  blood  of  the  breed 
to  give  up  easily.  Something  of  the  stubborn  determina 
tion  that  had  made  the  oldtime  Thaines  drive  the  Quakers 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


from  Virginia  shone  now  in  the  dark  eyes  of  this  daughter 
of  a  well-bred  house. 

"  It's  all  a  matter  of  getting  one's  system  and  this  Sep 
tember  wind  system  to  play  the  same  tune,"  she  said. 

"Virginia,  you  look  just  as  you  did  that  day  when  you 
said  you  were  going  through  the  Rebel  ranks  in  a  man's 
dress  to  take  a  message  for  me  to  the  Union  officer  of  my 
command,  although  you  ran  the  risk  of  being  shot  for  a 
spy  on  either  side  of  the  lines.  When  I  begged  you  not  to 
do  it,  you  only  laughed  at  me.  I  thought  then  you  were 
the  bravest  girl  I  ever  saw.  Now  I  know  it." 

"Well,  I'll  try  not  to  get  hysterical  over  the  wind  out 
here.  It  is  a  matter  of  time  and  adjustment.  Let's  adjust 
ourselves  to  dinner  now." 

Beyond  her  lightly  spoken  words  Asher  caught  the 
undertone  of  courage,  and  he  knew  that  a  battle  for  su 
premacy  was  on,  a  struggle  between  physical  outcry  and 
mental  poise. 

After  the  meal,  he  said,  "  I  must  take  my  plow  down  to 
Shirley's  this  afternoon.  His  is  broken  and  I  can  mend  it 
while  he  puts  in  his  fireguard  with  mine.  I  don't  mind  the 
wind,  but  I  won't  ask  you  to  face  it  clear  down  to  Shirley's 
claim.  I  don't  like  to  leave  you  here,  either." 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  stay  indoors.  What  is  there  to 
be  afraid  of,  anyhow?"  Virginia  asked. 

"Nothing  in  the  world  but  loneliness,"  her  husband 
replied. 

"  Well,  I  must  get  used  to  that,  you  know.  I  can  begin 
now,"  Virginia  said  lightly. 

But  for  all  her  courage,  she  watched  him  drive  away  with 
a  sob  in  her  throat.  In  all  the  universe  there  was  nothing 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  35 

save  a  glaring  sunlight  and  an  endless  cringing  of  yellow, 
wind-threshed  grass. 

Asher  Aydelot  had  come  here  with  half  a  dozen  other 
young  fellows,  all  of  whom  took  up  claims  along  Grass 
River.  Six  months  later  Jim  Shirley  had  come  to  the 
settlement  with  a  like  company  who  extended  the  free- 
holdings  until  it  was  seven  miles  by  the  winding  of  the  river 
from  Aydelot's  claim  on  the  northwest  down  the  river  to 
Shirley's  claim  on  the  southeast. 

Eighteen  months  later  only  two  men  were  left  in  the 
Grass  River  valley,  Aydelot  and  Shirley.  The  shorter  trail 
as  the  crow  flies  between  their  claims  was  marked  by  a 
golden  thread  of  sunflowers.  At  the  third  bend  of  the  wind 
ing  stream  a  gentle  ripple  of  ground  rose  high  enough  to 
hide  the  cabin  lights  from  each  other  that  otherwise  might 
have  given  a  neighborly  comfort  to  the  two  lone  settlers. 

Shirley's  cabin  stood  on  a  tiny  swell  of  ground,  mark  of 
a  one-time  island,  set  in  a  wide  bend  in  the  river  that  was 
itself  a  natural  fireguard  for  most  of  the  circle  of  the 
premises. 

The  house  was  snug  as  a  squirrel's  nest.  Before  it  was 
a  strip  of  white  clover,  as  green  and  fresh  looking  as  if  it 
were  on  the  banks  of  Clover  Creek  in  Ohio.  Above  the  door 
a  plain  board  bore  the  one  word,  "  Cloverdale." 

Jim  Shirley  stood  watching  Asher  coming  down  the  trail 
against  the  wind,  followed  by  the  big  shepherd  dog,  Pilot, 
who  had  bounded  off  to  meet  him. 

"Hello!  How  did  you  get  away  on  a  day  like  this?" 
he  called,  as  the  team  drew  near. 

"  Why,  you  old  granny ! "    Asher  stopped  here. 

Both  men  had  been  on  the  Kansas  plains  long  enough 


36  Winning  the  Wilderness 

not  to  mind  the  wind.  It  flashed  into  Asher's  mind  that  Jim 
was  hoping  to  see  his  wife  with  him,  and  he  measured  anew 
the  loneliness  of  the  man's  life. 

"Most  too  rude  for  ladies  just  yet,  although  I  didn't 
like  to  leave  Virginia  alone." 

"What  could  possibly  harm  her?  Your  fireguard's 
done,  double  done ;  there's  no  water  to  drown  in,  no  Indian 
to  frighten,  no  wild  beast  to  enter,  no  white  man,  in  God 
knows  how  many  hundred  miles.  Just  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of." 

"  Yes,  that's  it  —  just  nothing.  And  it's  enough  to  make 
even  a  braver  woman  afraid.  It's  the  eternal  vast  nothing 
ness,  when  the  very  silence  cries  out  at  you.  It's  the  awful 
loneliness  of  the  plains  that  makes  the  advance  attack  in  this 
fight  with  the  wilderness.  Don't  we  both  know  that?" 

"I  reckon  we  do,  but  we  got  over  it,  and  so  will  Mrs. 
Aydelot." 

" How  do  you  know  that?  "  Asher  inquired  eagerly.  "  I 
believe  she  could  hardly  keep  back  the  tears  till  I  got 
away." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  get  away  sooner?  I  know  she 
will  get  over  it,  because  she's  as  good  a  woman  as  we  are 
men,  and  we  stood  for  it." 

"  Well,  here's  your  plow.  Better  get  your  guard  thrown 
up.  I  can  smell  smoke  now.  There's  a  prairie  fire  sweep 
ing  in  on  this  wind  somewhere.  There's  a  storm  brewing, 
too.  Remember  what  a  fight  we  had  with  fire  a  year 
ago?" 

Asher  was  helping  to  put  Jim's  team  in  the  harness. 

"  Yes,  you  saved  your  well  and  a  few  other  little  things. 
But  you've  got  your  grit,  you  darned  Buckeye,  to  hold  on 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  37 

and  start  again  from  the  ashes.  And  now  you  have  your 
wife  here.  You  are  lucky,"  Jim  declared. 

"  Where's  that  broken  plow  of  yours?  Is  it  bolt  or  weld? 
Maybe  I  can  mend  it."  Asher  was  casting  about  for  tools. 

"It's  bolt.  Everything  is  on  the  stable  shelves,"  Jim 
called  back  against  the  wind,  as  he  drove  the  plow  deep  in 
the  black  soil.  "Be  sure  you  put  'em  back  when  you  are 
through  with  'em,  too." 

"  Poor  Jim ! "  Asher  said  to  himself  with  a  smile.  "  The 
artist  in  him  makes  him  keep  the  place  in  order.  He'd  stop 
to  hang  up  his  coat  and  vest  if  he  had  to  fight  a  mad  bull. 
Poor  judgment  puts  a  good  many  tragedies  into  lives  as 
well  as  stage  villain  types  of  crime." 

And  then  Asher  thought  of  Virginia,  and  wondered  what 
she  was  doing  through  the  long  afternoon.  He  was  whis 
tling  softly  with  a  smile  in  his  eyes  as  Jim  Shirley  made 
the  tenth  round  of  the  premises  and  stopped  opposite  the 
stable  door. 

"  Hey,  Asher,  come  out  and  see  the  sky  now,"  he  called. 
"  It's  prairie  fire  and  equinoctial  storm  combined." 

Asher  hurried  out  to  see  the  dull  southwest  heavens 
shutting  off  the  sunlight  out  of  which  raged  a  wind  searing 
the  sky  to  a  dun  gray. 

"Don't  stand  there  staring,  you  idiot.  Why  don't  you 
get  your  plowing  done?"  he  cried  to  Shirley. 

Shirley  began  to  loose  the  trace-chain  from  the  plow. 

"That  strip  is  wide  enough  now,"  he  declared.  "I've 
got  a  clover  guard,  anyhow.  I  don't  need  to  back-fire  like 
my  neighbors  do." 

As  Asher  untied  his  ponies  and  climbed  into  the  wagon, 
Jim  held  their  reins. 


38  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Stop  a  minute.  Let  a  single  man  offer  you  a  word  of 
advice,  will  you?"  he  asked. 

"All  right,  I  need  advice,"  Asher  smiled  down  on  Jim's 
earnest  face. 

"  Then  heed  it,  too.  No  use  to  tell  you  to  take  care  of 
your  wife.  You'll  do  that  to  a  fault.  But  don't  make  any 
mistake  about  Mrs.  Asher  Aydelot.  She  went  through 
Rebel  and  Union  lines  once  to  save  your  life.  Don't  doubt 
her  strength  to  hold  her  own  here  as  soon  as  the  first  fight 
is  over.  She  is  like  that  Kentucky  thoroughbred  of  hers; 
she's  got  endurance  as  well  as  grace  and  beauty." 

"Bless  you,  Jim,"  Asher  said,  as  he  clasped  Shirley's 
hand.  "  I  wish  you  had  a  wife." 

"Well,  they  are  something  of  an  anxiety,  too.  Hustle 
home  ahead  of  the  storm.  I've  always  wished  that  bluff 
at  the  deep  bend  didn't  hide  us  from  each  other's  sight.  I'd 
like  to  blast  it  out." 

Asher  Aydelot  hurried  northward  aheajj  of  the  hot  winds 
and  deepening  shadows  of  the  coming  storm.  And  all  the 
time,  in  spite  of  Jim's  comforting  words,  an  anxiety  grew 
and  grew.  The  miles  seemed  endless,  the  heavens  dark 
ened,  and  the  wind  suddenly  gave  a  gasp  and  died  away, 
leaving  a  hot,  blank  stillness  everywhere. 

Meanwhile,  Virginia,  alone  in  the  cabin,  had  fallen  asleep 
from  sheer  nerve  weariness.  When  she  awoke,  it  was  late  in 
the  afternoon.  The  screaming  outside  had  ceased,  but  the 
whir  and  whine  were  still  going  on,  and  the  blaring  light 
was  toned  by  the  dust-filled  air. 

"I  was  only  tired,"  Virginia  said  to  herself.  "Now  I 
am  rested,  I  don't  mind  the  wind." 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  39 

She  went  out  to  watch  the  trail  for  Asher's  coming.  He 
was  not  in  sight,  so  she  came  inside  again,  but  nothing  there 
could  interest  her. 

"  I'll  go  out  and  wait  awhile,"  she  thought. 

Tying  a  veil  over  her  head,  she  shut  the  cabin  door  and 
sat  down  outside.  The  wTind  died  suddenly  away,  the  trail 
was  lifeless,  and  all  the  plain  cut  by  the  trail  as  well.  Then 
the  solitude  of  the  thing  took  up  the  flight  where  the  wind 
had  left  off. 

"How  can  I  ever  stand  this,"  Virginia  cried,  springing 
up.  "  But  Asher  stood  it  before  I  came,  or  even  promised 
to  come.  No  knight  of  the  old  chivalry  days  ever  endured 
such  hardships  as  the  claimholders  on  these  Kansas  plains 
must  endure.  But  it  takes  women  to  make  homes.  They 
can  never,  never  win  here  without  wives.  I  could  go  back 
to  Virginia  if  I  would."  She  shut  her  teeth  tightly,  and  the 
small  hands  were  clenched.  "  But  I  won't  do  it.  I'll  stay 
here  with  Asher  Aydelot.  Other  men  and  women  as  eager 
as  we  are  will  come  soon.  We  can  wait,  and  some  day,  Oh, 
some  day,  we'll  not  miss  what  the  Thaines  lost  by  the  war 
and  the  Aydelots  lost  by  the  Thaines,  for  we'll  have  a 
prince's  holdings  on  these  desolate  plains!" 

She  stood  with  her  hands  clasped  looking  with  far-seeing 
dark  eyes  down  the  long  trail  by  the  dry  river  bed,  like  a 
goddess  of  Conquest  on  a  vast  untamed  prairie. 

A  sudden  sweep  of  the  wind  aroused  her,  and  the  lone 
liness  of  the  plains  rose  up  again. 

"  I'll  get  Juno  and  follow  the  trail  till  I  meet  Asher.  I 
can't  get  lost  where  there's  nothing  but  space,"  she  said 
aloud,  as  she  hurried  to  the  stable  and  led  out  the  petted 
thoroughbred. 


40  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Horses  are  very  human  creatures,  responding  not  only  to 
the  moods  of  their  masters,  but  to  the  conditions  that  give 
these  moods.  The  West  was  no  kinder  to  the  eastern-bred 
horse  than  to  the  eastern-bred  man.  All  day  Juno  had 
plunged  about  the  stable  and  pawed  the  hard  earth  floor  in 
sheer  nervousness.  She  leaped  out  of  doors  now  at  Vir 
ginia's  call,  as  eager  for  comfort  as  a  homesick  child. 

"We'll  chase  off  and  meet  Asher,  darling." 

Even  the  soft  voice  the  mare  had  heard  all  her  days  did 
not  entirely  soothe  her.  As  Virginia  mounted  the  wind  flung 
shut  the  stable  door  with  a  bang.  Juno  leaped  as  from  a 
gunshot,  and  dashed  away  up  the  river  to  the  northwest. 
Her  rider  tried  in  vain  to  change  her  course  and  quiet  her 
spirit.  The  mare  only  surged  madly  forward,  as  if  bent  on 
outrunning  the  tantalizing,  grinding  wind.  With  the  sense 
of  freedom,  and  with  the  boundlessness  of  the  plains,  some 
old  instinct  of  the  unbridled  days  of  by-gone  generations 
woke  to  life  and  power  in  her,  and  with  the  bit  between  her 
teeth,  she  swept  away  in  unrestrained  speed. 

Virginia  was  a  skilled  horsewoman,  and  she  had  no  fear 
for  herself,  so  she  held  the  reins  and  kept  her  place. 

"I  can  go  wherever  you  can,  you  foolish  Juno,"  she 
cried,  giving  herself  up  to  the  exhilarating  ride.  "We'll 
stay  together  to  the  end  of  the  race,  and  we  will  get  it  out 
of  our  systems  once  for  all,  and  come  back  *  plains-broke.' " 

Beyond  a  westward  sweeping  curve  of  the  river's  course 
the  chase  became  a  climb  up  a  long  slope  that  grew  steeper 
and  steeper,  cutting  off  the  view  of  the  stream.  Here 
Juno's  speed  slackened,  then  dropped  into  a  steady  canter, 
as  she  listened  for  a  command  to  turn  back. 

"We'll  go  on  to  the  edge  of  that  bluff,  lady,  now  we 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  41 

are  here,  and  see  what  is  across  the  river,"  Virginia  said. 
"  Then  we  will  hurry  home  to  Asher  and  prairie  hay." 

When  they  came  at  last  over  a  rough  shale  outcrop  to 
the  highest  headland,  the  river  bed  lay  between  its  base  and 
a  barren  waste  of  sand  dunes,  with  broad  grassy  regions 
beyond  them  spreading  southward.  The  view  from  the 
bluff's  top  was  magnificent.  Virginia  held  Juno  to  the 
place  and  looked  in  wonder  at  the  vast  southwest  on  this 
strange  September  afternoon.  Across  a  reach  of  level 
land,  miles  wide,  a  prairie  fire  was  sweeping  in  the  majesty 
of  mastery.  The  lurid  flames  leaped  skyward,  while  roll  on 
surging  roll  of  black  smoke-waves,  with  folds  of  gray  ashes 
smothering  between,  poured  out  along  the  horizon.  Beyond 
the  fire  was  the  dark  blue  storm-cloud,  banded  across  the 
front  by  the  hail  mark  of  coppery  green. 

Virginia  sat  enchanted  by  the  grandeur  of  the  scene. 
The  veil  had  fallen  from  her  head,  and  with  white  face  and 
fascinated  eyes,  she  watched  the  glowing  fury,  a  graceful 
rider  on  a  graceful  black  horse,  on  the  crest  of  the  lone 
headland  outlined  against  the  sky. 

Suddenly  the  terror  of  it  broke  upon  her.  She  was  miles 
from  the  cabin  with  its  double  fireguard.  Asher  had  said 
such  fires  could  leap  rivers.  Between  her  and  safety  were 
many  level  banks  where  the  sandy  stream  bed  was  narrow, 
and  many  grassy  stretches  where  there  was  no  water  at  all. 

Distance,  storm  wind,  fire  and  hail,  all  seemed  ready  to 
close  down  upon  her,  making  her  senses  reel.  One  human 
being,  alone  before  the  wrath  of  Nature !  In  all  the  years 
that  followed,  she  never  forgot  that  scene.  For  in  that 
moment  a  whisper  came  from  somewhere  out  of  the  void, 
"The  Eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the 


42  Winning  the  Wilderness 

everlasting  arms,"  and  she  clasped  her  hands  in  a  word 
less  prayer. 

The  wind  that  had  been  cruel  all  day  grew  suddenly  kind. 
A  dead  calm  held  the  air  in  a  hot  stillness.  Then  with  a 
whip  and  a  whirl,  it  swung  its  course  about  and  began  to 
pour  cool  and  strong  out  of  the  northwest. 

"The  wind  is  changing,"  Virginia  cried,  as  she  felt  its 
chill  and  saw  the  flame  and  smoke  tower  upward  and  bend 
back  from  the  way.  "  It  is  blowing  the  fire  to  the  east,  to 
the  southeast.  But,  will  it  catch  Asher?  Oh,  you  good 
Wind,  blow  south !  blow  south ! "  she  pleaded,  as  she  dashed 
down  the  long  slope  for  the  homeward  race. 

When  Asher  reached  his  claim,  he  looked  in  vain  for 
Virginia's  face  as  he  passed  the  cabin  window.  He  hurried 
the  ponies  into  the  corral,  and  the  wagon  under  the  lean-to 
beside  the  stable,  half  conscious  that  something  was  missing 
inside.  Then  he  hastened  to  the  cabin,  but  Virginia  was 
not  there. 

"  She  may  be  in  the  stable."  He  half  whispered  the 
words  in  his  anxiety. 

The  ponies  in  the  corral  were  greedily  eating  their  hay, 
but  the  black  mare  Juno  was  gone.  As  Asher  turned  toward 
the  house,  he  caught  the  low  roaring  of  the  tempest  and 
felt  a  rush  of  cool  wind  from  somewhere.  A  huge  storm- 
wave  of  yellow  dust  was  rolling  out  of  the  southwest; 
beyond  it  the  heavens  were  copper-green,  and  back  of  that, 
midnight  darkness;  while,  borne  onward  by  its  force,  low 
waves  of  prairie  fire  were  swept  along  the  ground. 

Down  at  the  third  bend  of  the  river  where  long  growths 
overhung  the  stream,  the  flames  crossed  easily.  Even  as 


The  Will  of  the  Wind  43 

Asher  Aydelot  watched  the  storm  cloud,  long  tongues  of 
fire  came  licking  up  the  valley  toward  him,  not  a  towering 
height,  but  a  swift  crawling  destruction  which  he  looked  at 
with  unseeing  eyes,  for  his  only  thought  was  for  Virginia. 

"  How  could  I  have  missed  her  if  she  started  to  meet  me  ? 
Yet,  where  can  she  be  now  ?  "  he  groaned. 

The  hungry  flames  gnawed  vainly  about  his  broad  fire 
guard,  then  wavered  back  and  forth  along  the  south  prairie, 
while  he  watched  them  under  the  fascination  the  mastery  of 
the  elements  can  exert.  He  turned  at  last  from  the  fire  and 
storm  to  see  Juno  and  her  rider  swinging  down  the  north 
west  prairie,  keeping  close  to  the  river  line  before  the  chill 
north  wind. 

"Oh,  Virgie,  Virgie,"  he  cried,  as  she  slipped  from  the 
saddle  and  he  caught  her  in  his  arms.  "I've  lived  a  hun 
dred  years  since  I  left  you  this  afternoon.  What  made 
you  run  away?" 

In  the  joy  of  her  safe  return,  he  forgot  the  fire. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  the  wind  is  from  the  north  ?  And 
it  is  blowing  everything  south  now?  I  saw  it  begin  away 
up  the  river.  Did  that  guard  really  keep  off  that  thing  I 
saw  from  the  high  bluff  up  yonder?" 

"  I  put  it  there  to  do  it,  and  I'd  take  the  chances.  Awful 
as  it  is,  it  can't  do  anything  but  burn,  and  there's  nothing 
here  to  burn.  If  it  hadn't  been  there,  everything  would 
have  been  gone  and  you  would  have  come  back  to  a  pile  of 
ashes  if  the  wind  had  left  a  pile." 

"  And  you  put  your  puny  hands  to  the  plow  handles  and 
say  to  that  awful  fury, '  So  far,  and  no  farther.  This  is  my 
home.5  You,  one  little  human  being!"  Virginia's  eyes 
were  glowing  with  wonder  at  the  miracle. 


44  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Yes,  with  my  puny  hands.  Me  —  a  little  man,"  Asher 
smiled  quizzically,  as  he  spread  his  broad  brown  hands  before 
his  face  and  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  six  feet  of  height. 
"  Only  I  say,  *  our  home.'  But  I  was  so  scared  about  you,  I 
forgot  to  notice  the  change  in  the  wind.  The  fire  is  chasing 
to  the  south,  and  the  hailstorm  has  veered  off  down  that 
stream  this  side  of  those  three  headlands  over  there.  The 
wind  gives  and  the  wind  takes  away.  You  can't  plow  a 
guard  around  it." 

They  sat  down  by  the  cabin  door  to  watch  the  storm  and 
flame  blown  far  away  in  whirls  of  glaring  light  and  surging 
cloud,  until  the  rain  at  last  drowned  all  the  fury  and  washed 
it  over  the  edge  of  the  south  horizon  out  of  the  world. 

"  Sometime  we'll  plant  hedges  and  forest  trees  and 
checker  the  country  with  windbreaks  until  days  like  this  will 
belong  only  to  an  old  pioneer's  memory,"  Asher  said,  as 
the  storm  swept  wide  away. 

"Then,  I'm  glad  I  came  early  enough  to  see  this.  I'm 
getting  '  plains-broke '  along  with  Juno.  Isn't  it  wonderful 
to  be  a  real  pioneer?  Back  in  Virginia  we  were  two  cen 
turies  of  generations  away  from  the  first  settlers,"  Virginia 
exclaimed. 

But  Asher  did  not  answer.  He  was  thinking  of  Jim  Shir 
ley's  declaration :  "  She's  got  endurance  as  well  as  grace 
and  beauty." 


CHAPTER  IV 

DISTRESS  SIGNALS 

Also,  we  will  make  promise.     So  long  as  the  Blood 

endures, 
I  shall  know  that  your  will  is  mine;  ye  shall  feel 

that  my  strength  is  yours. 

—A  Song  of  the  English. 

VIRGINIA  AYDELOT  soon  grew  brown  as  a  berry  in 
the  tanning  prairie  winds,  and  it  seemed  impossible 
that  this  strong  young  woman  of  the  sod  cabin,  with  her 
simple  dress  and  her  cheeks  abloom,  could  have  been  the 
dainty  child  of  the  old  Southern  mansion  house. 

No  other  autumn  had  ever  seemed  quite  so  beautiful  to 
the  Aydelots  as  this,  their  first  autumn  together.  Life  was 
before  them  with  its  call  to  victory.  Youth  and  health, 
exuberant  spirits  and  love  were  theirs.  Theirs,  too,  was  the 
great  boundless  world  of  mists  and  mirages,  of  rainbow 
tinted  grasses  and  opal  heavens,  where  no  two  sunsets  were 
ever  the  same.  They  could  laugh  at  their  poverty,  believ 
ing  in  a  time  when  Ease  and  Plenty  would  rule  the  land 
where  now  they  must  fight  for  the  bare  necessities  of  exist 
ence,  picturing  life  not  as  it  was  then  with  its  many  hard 
ships,  but  as  it  would  be  in  a  future  day  when  the  real 
world  whose  last  outpost  they  had  left  almost  fifty  miles 
to  the  eastward,  should  move  toward  them  and  help  to 
people  the  prairies. 

All  the  week  days  were  full  of  duties,  but  every  Sabbath 
morning  found  the  three  settlers  of  the  valley  making  a 
prairie  sanctuary  of  the  Aydelot  cabin.  The  elder  Aydelots 
had  not  united  with  any  church,  but  Asher  and  Jim,  when 

45 


46  Winning  the  Wilderness 

they  were  only  boys,  had  been  converted  at  a  Methodist 
revival  in  Cloverdale.  It  was  an  old-fashioned  kind  of 
religious  leading,  but  it  was  strong  enough  to  hold  the  two 
for  all  the  years  that  followed.  Virginia  had  been  reared 
an  Episcopalian,  but  the  men  out-voted  her  and  declared 
that  the  Aydelot  home  was  the  Sunflower  Inn  for  six  days  in 
the  week,  but  on  the  seventh  it  was  the  "First  Methodist 
Church  of  the  Conference  of  the  Prairies." 

There  was  no  levity  in  its  service,  however,  and  He  who 
dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  men's  hands  blessed  with 
his  own  benediction  of  peace  and  trust  and  courage  the 
three  who  set  up  their  altar  to  Him  in  this  far-away  place. 

On  Sabbath  afternoons  they  explored  the  sand  dunes  and 
grassy  levels  up  and  down  the  river.  Sometimes  they  rode 
northward  to  the  main  trail  in  hope  of  sighting  some  prairie 
schooner  coming  hitherward,  but  not  once  that  season  did 
the  trail  hold  a  human  being  for  them. 

October  slipped  into  November  with  a  gradual  sharpen 
ing  of  the  frosty  air.  Everything  had  been  made  as  snug 
as  possible  for  the  winter.  The  corrals  were  enlarged  for 
the  stock.  The  houses  and  stables  were  thatched  against 
the  cold  and  storms;  and  fuel  and  food  were  carefully 
stored.  But  November  was  almost  passed  before  the  end 
of  the  bright  and  sometimes  even  balmy  days. 

"  We  must  have  Jim  up  to  the  Sunflower  Inn  for  Thanks 
giving  dinner.  Might  as  well  invite  the  whole  neighbor 
hood,"  Asher  said  one  evening,  as  he  helped  Virginia  with 
the  supper  dishes. 

"I'm  planning  a  real  dinner,  too,"  his  wife  declared, 
"just  like  old  Mammy  Diane  used  to  cook.  You  couldn't 
tell  it  from  hers  if  you'd  ever  eaten  one  of  her  spreads." 


Distress  Signals  47 

"  I  suppose  it  will  taste  about  as  near  like  one  of  Diane's 
meals  as  you  will  look  like  the  cook  that  made  her  meals," 
Asher  answered. 

"  Well,  I'm  getting  along  that  way.  Look  at  my  tanned 
arms  now.  There's  a  regular  dead  line,  a  perfect  fireguard 
at  the  elbow.  And  my  muscles,  Mammy  Diane  would  say, 
'is  jus '  monst'ous.'  * 

Virginia  pushed  back  her  sleeve  to  show  the  well-marked 
line  where  white  above  met  tan  below. 

"  Jim  will  think  anything  is  better  than  eating  alone  out 
of  his  own  grub  box,  and  your  dinner  will  be  a  feast," 
Asher  said,  opening  the  door  to  carry  out  the  dish  water. 
"What  do  you  think  of  this?" 

A  gust  of  cold  rain  swished  in  as  the  door  fell  open. 

"  Our  rain  is  here,  at  last.  Maybe  it  will  bring  snow  for 
Thanksgiving,  and  we  could  have  a  touch  of  New  England 
here,"  Virginia  said. 

The  pelting  rain  and  deepening  chill  made  the  little  home 
a  very  snug  nest  that  night.  There  was  only  one  stove 
to  warm  the  house,  but  they  kept  up  a  fiction  of  parlor  and 
dining  room,  kitchen  and  bed  chamber.  Even  the  library 
was  there,  although  it  encroached  dreadfully  on  the  parlor, 
bedroom  and  kitchen,  all  three,  for  it  consisted  of  space 
enough  for  two  chairs,  one  footstool,  and  a  tiny  lamp- 
stand,  beside  which  they  spent  their  evenings. 

"Who's  likely  to  drop  in  tonight,  and  what's  the  pro 
gram  for  the  evening:  charades,  music,  readings,  dancing, 
cribbage,  or  political  speeches?"  Asher  inquired. 

They  had  invented  all  sorts  of  pastimes,  with  make- 
believe  audiences,  such  as  little  children  create  for  their 
plays.  For  these  two  were  children  in  a  big  child  world. 


48  Winning  the  Wilderness 

The  wilderness  is  never  grown  up.  It  is  Nature's  little  one 
waiting  to  be  led  on  and  disciplined  to  mature  uses.  Asher 
and  Virginia  had  already  peopled  the  valley  with  imaginary 
settlers,  each  one  of  a  certain  type,  and  they  adapted  their 
pastime  to  the  particular  neighbors  whom  they  chose  to 
invite  for  the  evening.  How  little  the  helpless  folk  in  the 
city,  bored  with  their  own  dullness,  and  dependent  on  others 
for  amusement  —  how  little  could  such  as  these  cope  with 
the  loneliness  of  the  home  on  the  plains,  or  comprehend  the 
resourcefulness  of  the  home-makers  there ! 

"  Oh,  let's  just  spend  the  evening  alone.  It's  too  stormy 
fcr  the  Arnolds  and  Archibalds  beyond  the  Deep  Bend,  and 
the  Spoopendykes  have  relatives  from  the  East  and  the  Gil- 
liwigs  are  all  down  with  colds." 

Virginia  had  tucked  herself  down  in  the  one  rocking 
chair,  with  her  feet  on  the  footstool. 

"It's  such  a  nice  night  to  be  to  ourselves.  Watch  the 
rain  washing  that  west  window.  It's  getting  worse.  I 
always  think  of  Jim  on  nights  like  this." 

"  So  do  I,"  Asher  said,  as  he  sat  down  in  the  armed  chair 
he  had  made  for  himself  of  cottonwood  limbs  with  a  gunny 
sack  seat.  "  He's  all  alone  with  his  dog  these  dark  nights, 
and  loneliness  cuts  to  the  heart  of  a  man  like  Jim.  I'm  glad 
I  have  you,  Virginia.  I  couldn't  do  without  you  now.  The 
rain  is  getting  heavier  every  minute.  Sounds  like  it  was 
thumping  on  the  door.  Listen  to  that  wind ! " 

"  Tell  me  about  Jim,  Asher.  What  made  him  come  out 
here  anyhow  ?  "  Virginia  asked. 

"I  don't  know  all  the  story.  Jim  has  never  seemed  to 
want  to  tell  me,  and  I've  never  cared  to  ask  him,"  Asher 
replied.  "When  we  were  away  together  at  school,  he  was 


Distress  Signals  49 

in  love  with  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  that  Ohio  ever  grew. 
She  lived  in  the  country  up  the  valley  from  Cloverdale. 
Her  name  was  Alice  Leigh,  and  she  was  a  whole  cut  above 
the  neighborhood.  Jim  said  she  was  an  artist,  could  do 
wonderful  things  with  a  brush  and  she  was  just  wild  to  go 
somewhere  and  take  lessons. 

"Jim  was  planning  always  how  to  give  her  the  oppor 
tunity  to  do  it,  but  her  mother,  who  owned  a  lot  of  land 
for  that  country  and  could  afford  to  send  Alice  away  to 
study,  couldn't  see  any  dollar  sign  in  it,  so  she  kept  her 
daughter  on  the  farm." 

Asher  paused  and  looked  at  Virginia.  His  own  happi 
ness  made  his  voice  tremble  as  he  went  on. 

"He  has  a  brother  Tank.  I  suppose  his  real  name  is 
Thaddeus,  or  Tantalus,  or  something  like  it ;  I  never  knew, 
and  I  never  liked  him  well  enough  to  ask.  Tank  was  a 
black-eyed  little  runt  whom  none  of  the  boys  liked,  a 
grasping  cuss,  younger  than  Jim,  and  as  selfish  as  Jim  is 
kind. 

Just  before  I  came  West  to  scout  the  Indians  off  the 
map,  Jim  came  back  to  school  one  time  so  unlike  himself 
that  I  made  him  tell  me  what  was  the  matter.  It  was  Tank, 
he  said,  who  was  making  trouble  for  him  up  in  the  Leigh 
neighborhood,  and  he  was  so  grieved  and  unhappy,  I 
wouldn't  ask  any  more  about  it.  I  left  for  the  West  soon 
after  that.  When  I  went  back  to  Cloverdale,  Tank  Shir 
ley  had  married  Alice  Leigh  and  her  mother's  farm,  and 
Jim  had  left  the  country.  I  ran  on  to  him  by  accident  up 
at  Carey's  Crossing  when  I  came  West  again,  but  I've  never 
heard  him  say  a  word  about  the  matter,  and,  of  course,  I 
don't  mention  it,  although  I  believe  it  would  do  Jim  good 


50  Winning  the  Wilderness 

if  he  could  bring  himself  to  tell  me  about  it.  He's  never 
been  quite  the  same  since.  He  has  a  little  tendency  to  lung 
trouble,  which  the  plains  air  is  taking  out  of  him,  but  he's 
had  a  bad  attack  of  pneumonia,  and  it's  an  old  enemy  of 
his,  as  it  always  is  to  a  man  of  his  physique.  He's  a 
good  worker,  but  lacks  judgment  to  make  his  work  count. 
Doesn't  really  seem  to  have  much  to  work  for.  But  he's 
a  friend  to  the  last  ditch.  Just  hear  the  rain ! " 

"It  seems  to  be  knocking  against  the  door  again,"  Vir 
ginia  said,  "  and  how  the  wind  does  howl !  Poor  Jim ! " 

"Listen  to  that!  Sounds  like  something  loose  against 
the  window.  There's  something  out  there."  Asher  started 
up  with  the  words. 

Something  white  had  seemed  to  splash  up  against  the 
window  and  drop  back  again.  It  splashed  up  a  second 
time,  and  fell  again.  Asher  hurried  to  the  door,  and  as 
he  opened  it,  Pilot,  the  big  white-throated  dog  from  the 
Shirley  claim,  came  bounding  in,  so  wet  and  shaggy  he 
seemed  to  bring  all  the  storm  in  with  him. 

"Why,  Pilot,  what's  the  news?"  Asher  asked.  "Jim's 
sent  him,  Virgie.  He's  done  this  trick  often." 

Pilot  slipped  to  the  warm  stove  and  shook  a  whole  shower 
out  of  his  long,  wet  hair,  while  Asher  carefully  untied  a 
little  leather  bag  fastened  to  the  collar  under  the  dog's 
throat. 

"  You  brave  fellow.  You've  come  all  the  way  in  the  rain 
to  bring  me  this." 

He  held  up  a  little  metal  box  from  which  he  took  a  bit 
of  paper.  Bending  close  to  the  lamp,  he  read  the  message 
it  contained. 

"  Something  is  wrong,  Virginia.     He  says,  *  I  need  you.' 


Distress  Signals  51 

What's  the  matter  with  Jim,  Pilot?  Come  here  and  get  up 
in  the  chair!" 

The  dog  whimpered  and  sat  still. 

"Come  out  here,  then!  Come  on,  I  tell  you!"  Asher 
started  as  if  to  open  the  door,  but  the  dog  did  not  move. 

"He's  not  out  of  doors,  and  he  isn't  sitting  up  in  a 
chair.  Tell  me,  now,  Pilot,  exactly  where  Jim  is !  Jim,  mind 
you!" 

The  dog  looked  at  him  with  watchful  eyes. 

"Where's  Jim?  Poor  Jim!"  Asher  repeated,  and  Pilot, 
with  a  sorrowful  yelp,  stretched  himself  at  full  length  beside 
the  stove. 

"Jim's  sick,  then?" 

Pilot  wagged  his  tail  understandingly. 

"  Virgie,  Jim  needs  me.  I  must  go  to  him."  Asher 
looked  at  his  wife. 

"  If  Jim  needs  you,  you'll  need  me,"  she  replied. 

"  And  we'll  both  need  Pilot.  So  we'll  keep  all  the  human 
beings  together,"  Asher  said,  as  he  helped  his  wife  to  fasten 
her  heavy  cloak  and  tie  a  long  old-fashioned  nubia  about 
her  head. 

Then  they  went  out  into  the  darkness  and  the  chilling 
rain,  as  neighbor  to  neighbor,  answering  this  cry  for  help. 

Pilot  ran  far  ahead  of  them  and  was  waiting  with  a  dog's 
welcome  when  they  reached  Shirley's  cabin.  But  the 
master,  lying  where  he  caught  the  chill  draught  from  the 
open  door,  was  rigid  with  cold.  A  sudden  attack  of  pneu 
monia  had  left  him  helpless.  And  tonight,  Pilot,  doing  a 
dog's  best,  did  not  understand  the  danger  of  leaving  doors 
open,  and  of  joyously  shaking  his  wet  fur  down  on  the 
sick  man  to  whom  help  was  coming  none  too  soon. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"  Hello,  Jim  !  "  We're  all  here,  doctor,  nurse,  cook,  and 
hired  man,  and  the  little  dog  under  the  wagon,"  Asher  said 
cheerily,  bending  over  Jim's  bunk.  "That  pup  pretty 
nearly  killed  you  with  kindness,  didn't  he  ?  " 

Jim  smiled  wanly,  then  looked  blankly  away  and  lay 
very  still. 

The  plains  frontier  had  no  use  for  the  one  talent  folk. 
People  must  know  how  to  take  care  of  life  there.  Asher's 
first  memory  of  Virginia  was  when  she  bent  over  him,  fight 
ing  the  fever  in  a  prison  hospital.  He  knew  her  talent  for 
helping,  and  he  had  fairly  estimated  her  quick  ingenuity 
for  this  sod  house  emergency.  But  a  new  vision  of  the 
plains  life  came  to  her  as  she  watched  him,  gentle-handed, 
swift,  but  unhurried,  never  giving  an  inch  to  the  enemy  in 
fighting  with  death  for  the  life  of  Jim  Shirley. 

"He's  safe  from  that  congestion,"  Asher  said  when  the 
morning  broke.  "  But  his  fever  will  come  on  now." 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  do  all  these  things  for  sick 
people  ?  "  Virginia  asked. 

"Partly  from  a  hospital  nurse  I  had  in  the  war.  Also, 
it's  a  part  of  the  game  here.  I  learned  a  few  things  fight 
ing  the  cholera  in  sixty-seven.  We  must  look  everything  on 
the  frontier  squarely  in  the  face,  danger  and  death  along  with 
the  rest,  just  as  we  have  to  do  everywhere  else,  only  we  have 
to  depend  on  each  other  more  here.  Hold  on  there,  Jim  !  " 

Asher  sprang  toward  Shirley,  who  was  sitting  upright, 
staring  wildly  at  the  two.  Then  a  struggle  began,  for  the 
sick  man,  crazed  with  delirium,  was  bent  on  driving  his 
helpers  from  the  cabin.  When  he  lay  back  exhausted  at 
length,  Asher  turned  to  his  wife. 

"One  of  us  must  go  to  Carey's  Crossing  for  a  doctor. 


Distress  Signals  53 

You  can't  hold  Jim.  It's  all  I  can  do  to  hold  him.  But 
it's  a  long  way  to  Carey's.  Can  you  go  ?  " 

"I'll  try,"  Virginia  replied.  And  Asher  remembered 
what  Jim  had  said  on  the  windy  September  day :  "  She's 
as  good  a  woman  as  we  are  men." 

"You  must  take  Pilot  with  you  and  leave  him  at  home. 
You  can't  get  lost,  for  you  know  the  way  up  to  the  main 
trail,  and  that  runs  straight  to  the  Crossing.  Dr.  Carey 
knows  Jim,  and  he  will  come  if  he  can,  I  am  sure.  He 
pulled  Jim  back  once  a  year  or  two  ago  when  the  pneu 
monia  had  him.  Heaven  keep  you  safe,  you  brave  little 
soul.  Jim  may  turn  the  trick  for  us  some  day." 

He  kissed  her  good-by  and  watched  her  gallop  away  on 
her  errand  of  mercy. 

"  The  men  will  have  all  the  credit  by  and  by  for  settling 
this  country.  Little  glory  will  come  to  their  wives,"  he 
thought.  "And  yet,  the  women  make  anchor  for  every 
hearthstone,  and  share  in  every  deed  of  daring  and  every 
test  of  endurance.  God  make  me  worthy  of  such  a  wife ! " 

Virginia  Aydelot  had  spoken  truly  when  she  declared 
that  the  war  had  left  the  Thaines  little  except  inherited 
pride  and  the  will  to  do  as  they  pleased.  Inherited  tenden 
cies  take  varying  turns.  What  had  made  a  reformer  of  old 
Jean  Aydelot  made  a  narrow  bigot  of  his  descendant, 
Francis.  What  had  made  a  proud,  exclusive  autocrat  of 
Jerome  Thaine,  in  Virginia  Thaine  developed  into  a  pride 
of  conquest  for  the  good  of  others.  It  was  this  pride  and 
the  Thaine  will  to  do  as  she  pleased  in  defiance  of  the  prairie 
perils  that  sent  her  now  on  this  errand  of  mercy  for  a 
neighbor  in  need.  And  she  took  little  measure  of  the 
reality  of  the  journey.  But  she  was  prudent  enough  to 


54  Winning  the  Wilderness 

stop  at  the  Sunflower  Inn  and  make  ready  for  it.  She 
slipped  on  a  warm  jacket  under  her  heavy  cloak,  and  put  on 
her  thickest  gloves  and  overshoes.  She  wound  a  long  red 
scarf  about  her  neck  and  swathed  her  head  in  the  gray 
nubia.  Then  she  mounted  her  horse  for  her  long,  hard  ride. 

The  little  sod  house  with  all  its  plainness  seemed  very 
cosy  as  she  took  leave  of  it,  and  the  woman  instinct  for 
home  made  its  outcry  in  her  when  she  turned  her  face 
resolutely  from  its  sheltering  warmth  and  felt  the  force 
of  the  north  wind  whipping  mercilessly  upon  her.  But  she 
steeled  herself  to  meet  the  cold,  and  her  spirits  rose  with  the 
effort. 

"  You  are  a  mean  little  wind.  Not  half  as  big  as  the  Sep 
tember  zephyrs.  Do  your  worst,  you  can't  scare  me,"  she 
cried,  tucking  her  head  down  against  its  biting  breath. 

Upon  the  main  trail  the  snow  that  had  fallen  after  mid 
night  deepened  in  the  lower  places  as  the  wind  whirled  it 
from  the  prairie  swells.  It  was  not  smooth  traveling, 
although  the  direction  of  the  trail  was  clear  enough  at  first. 

Virginia's  heart  bounded  hopefully  as  Juno  covered  mile 
after  mile  with  that  persistent,  steady  canter  that  means 
everything  good  for  a  long  ride.  But  the  open  plains  were 
bitterly  cold  and  the  wind  grew  fiercer  as  the  hours  passed. 
High  spirits  and  hope  began  to  give  place  to  determination 
and  endurance.  Virginia  shut  her  teeth  in  a  dogged  resolve 
not  to  give  up.  Indeed,  she  dared  not  give  up.  She  must 
go  on.  A  life  depended  on  her  now,  and  two  lives  might 
be  forfeited  if  she  let  this  unending  wind  chill  her  to 
forgetfulness. 

And  so,  alone  in  a  white  cruelty  of  solitary  land, 
bounded  only  by  the  gray  cruelty  of  the  sky,  with  a  dim- 


Distress  Signals  55 

ming  trail  before  her  under  a  deeper  snowfall,  and  with 
long  miles  behind  her,  she  struggled  on. 

She  tried  to  think  of  everything  cheerful  and  good.  She 
tried  to  find  comfort  in  the  help  she  would  take  to  Jim. 
Truly,  she  was  not  nearly  so  cold  now  and  she  was  very 
weary  and  a  wee  bit  sleepy.  A  tendency  to  droop  in  the 
saddle  was  overcoming  her.  She  roused  herself  quickly, 
and  with  a  jerk  at  the  reins  plunged  forward  at  a  gallop. 

"It  will  take  the  stupor  out  of  me,"  she  cried. 

Then  the  reins  drooped  and  the  fight  with  the  numbing 
cold  began  again. 

"  I  wonder  how  far  along  I  am.  I  must  be  nearly  there. 
I  remember  we  lost  sight  of  Carey's  Crossing  soon  after 
we  left  last  September.  Some  swell  of  ground  cut  us  off 
quickly — and  I've  never  seen  a  human  being  since  then, 
except  Asher  and  Jim  Shirley  and  Pilot,"  she  added. 

"  The  snow  is  so  much  heavier  right  here.  It  varies  so. 
I've  passed  half  a  dozen  changes,  but  this  is  the  deepest 
yet.  I'm  sure  I  can  see  the  town  beyond  this  slope  ahead. 
Why !  where's  the  trail,  anyhow  ?  " 

It  was  nearing  mid-afternoon.  Neither  horse  nor  rider 
had  had  food  nor  water,  save  once  when  Juno  drank  at  a 
crossing.  Virginia  sat  still,  conscious  suddenly  that  she 
has  missed  the  trail  somewhere. 

"  It  isn't  far,  I  know.  Could  I  have  left  it  when  I  took 
that  gallop?"  she  asked  herself. 

She  was  wide  awake  now,  for  the  reality  of  the  situation 
was  upon  her,  and  she  searched  madly  for  some  sign  of  the 
trail.  In  that  level  prairie  sea  there  was  no  sign  to  show 
where  the  trail  might  lie.  The  gray  sky  was  pitiless  still, 
and  with  no  guiding  ray  of  sunshine  the  points  of  the 


56  Winning  the  Wilderness 

compass  failed,  and  the  brave  woman  lost  all  sense  of 
direction. 

"  I  won't  give  up,"  she  said  at  last,  despairingly,  "  but 
we  may  as  well  rest  a  little  before  we  try  again." 

She  had  dropped  down  a  decided  slope  and  hurried  to  a 
group  of  low  bushes  in  a  narrow  draw.  While  the  wind 
was  sliding  the  snow  endlessly  back  and  forth  on  the  higher 
ground,  the  bushes  were  moveless.  Slipping  to  the  ground 
beside  them,  she  stamped  her  feet  and  swung  her  arms  until 
the  blood  began  to  warm  her  chilled  body. 

"It  is  so  much  warmer  here.  But  what  next?  Oh,  dear 
Father,  help  me,  help  me ! "  she  cried  in  the  depth  of  her 
need. 

And  again  the  same  clear  whisper  that  had  spoken  to  her 
on  the  headland  when  she  watched  the  September  prairie 
fire,  a  voice  from  out  of  the  vast  immensity  of  the  Universe, 
came  to  her  soul  with  its  calm  strength. 

"  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the 
everlasting  arms." 

How  many  a  time  in  the  days  of  winning  the  wilderness 
did  the  blessed  promise  come  to  the  pioneer  women  who 
braved  the  frontier  to  build  the  homes  of  a  conquering 
nation. 

"  I  can't  try  that  blind  game  again  for  awhile,"  Virginia 
said  to  herself.  "  I'll  run  up  a  distress  signal ;  maybe 
somewhere  help  is  coming  to  me.  I  know  now  how  Jim  felt 
all  alone  with  only  a  dog's  instinct  to  depend  on.  I'm 
glad  I've  tried  to  help  him,  even  if  I  have  failed." 

She  unwound  the  long  red  scarf  from  her  neck  and  bound 
her  nubia  closer  about  her  throat.  Then  bending  the 
tallest  bush  that  she  could  reach  she  fastened  the  bright 


Distress  Signals  57 

fabric  to  its  upper  limbs  and  let  it  swing  to  its  place  again. 
The  scarf  spread  a  little  in  the  breeze  and  hung  above  her, 
a  dumb  signal  of  distress  where  help  was  not. 

The  minutes  dragged  by  like  hours  to  Virginia,  trying 
vainly  to  decide  on  what  to  do  next.  The  fury  of  a  Plains 
blizzard  would  have  quickly  overcome  her,  but  this  was  a 
lingering  fight  against  cold  and  a  pathless  solitude.  Sud 
denly  the  memory  of  one  lonely  Sabbath  day  came  to  her, 
and  how  Asher,  always  resourceful,  had  said : 

"  When  you  are  afraid,  pray ;  but  when  you  are  lonely, 
sing." 

She  had  prayed,  and  comfort  had  come  with  the  prayer. 
She  could  sing  for  comfort,  if  for  nothing  else.  Somebody 
might  hear.  And  so  she  sang.  The  song  heard  sometimes 
in  the  little  prayer  meeting  in  some  country  church;  some 
times  by  sick  beds  when  the  end  of  days  is  drawing  near; 
sometimes  in  hours  of  shipwreck,  above  the  roar  of  billows 
on  wide,  stormy  seas;  and  sometimes  on  battlefields  when 
mangled  forms  lie  waiting  the  burial  trench  and  the  mourn 
ful  drumbeat  of  the  last  Dead  March  —  the  same  song  rose 
now  on  the  lonely  prairie  winds  sweeping  out  across  the 
hidden  trails  and  bleak  open  plains. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee, 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me. 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  PLAINSMAN  or  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

I  have  eaten  your  bread  and  salt, 
I  have  drunk  your  water  and  wine; 

The  deaths  ye  died  I  have  watched  beside, 
And  the  lives  ye  led  were  mine. 

— KIPLING. 

>TpHE  little  postoffice  at  Carey's  Crossing  in  Wolf 
•J-  County  was  full  of  men  waiting  for  the  mail  due  at 
noon.  Mail  came  thrice  a  week  now,  and  business  on  the 
frontier  was  looking  brighter.  The  postoffice  was  only  one 
feature  of  the  room  it  occupied.  Drugs,  hardware,  horse- 
feed,  groceries,  and  notions  each  had  claims  of  their  own, 
while  beside  the  United  States  Mail  Department  was  an  ink- 
splashed  desk  holding  a  hotel  register,  likewise  inksplashed. 
Beyond  the  storeroom  was  a  long,  narrow  dining  room  on 
one  side  and  a  few  little  cell-like  rooms  on  the  other  with  a 
crack  of  a  hall  between  them  leading  back  to  the  kitchen, 
the  whole  structure,  only  one  story  high,  having  more 
vertical  boards  than  horizontal  in  its  making.  But  the  let 
tering  over  the  front  door  bore  the  brave  information  that 
this  was  the  Post  Office,  the  General  Merchandise  Store,  and 
the  Jacobs  House,  all  in  one. 

The  rain  of  the  night  had  shifted  to  a  light  snow  that 
whiffed  about  in  little  white  pellets,  adding  nothing  to  the 
land  in  the  way  of  moisture,  or  beauty,  or  protection  from 
cold.  Just  a  chill  fraying  out  of  the  rain's  end  that 
matched  the  bitterness  of  the  wind's  long  sweep  from  out 

58 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  59 

of  the  vast  northwest.  A  gray  sky  was  clamped  down  over 
all,  so  dull  and  monotonous,  it  seemed  that  no  rainbow  tint 
could  ever  again  brighten  the  world. 

"The  stage  is  late  again,"   observed  one  of  the  men. 

"Always  is  wrhen  you  want  her  particular."  This  from 
a  large  man  who  held  the  door  open  long  enough  to  stare 
up  the  open  street  for  the  sign  of  the  coming  stage  and 
to  let  in  a  surge  of  cold  air  at  the  same  time. 

"Well,  shut  the  door,  Champers.  The  stage  doesn't 
come  inside.  It  stops  at  Hans  Wyker's  saloon  first,  any 
how,"  one  of  the  men  behind  a  counter  declared. 

"  If  you'd  open  a  bar  here  you'd  do  some  business  and 
run  that  Wyker  fellow  out.  Steward,  you  and  Jacobs  are 
too  danged  satisfied  with  yourselves.  We  need  some  busi 
ness  spirit  in  this  town  if  we  want  to  get  the  county  seat 
here,"  Champers  declared. 

"That  may  help  your  real  estate,  but  it's  not  my  kind 
of  business,  and  no  bar  is  going  into  this  tavern,"  Jacobs 
replied,  leaning  his  elbow  against  the  back  of  Stewart,  who 
was  bending  over  the  desk. 

Stewart  and  Jacobs  were  young  men,  the  former  a  finely 
built,  fair-haired  Scotchman  from  whom  good  nature,  good 
health,  and  good  morals  fairly  radiated;  not  the  kind  of 
man  to  become  a  leader,  but  rather  to  belong  to  the  sub 
stantial  following  of  a  leader. 

Jacobs  was  short,  and  slender,  and  dark  —  unmistakably 
of  Jewish  blood  —  with  a  keen  black  eye,  quick  motions, 
and  the  general  air  of  a  shrewd  business  man,  letting  no 
dollar  escape  him.  He  had  also  the  air  of  a  gentleman. 
Nobody  in  Carey's  Crossing  had  ever  heard  him  swear  — 
the  language  of  the  frontier  always  —  nor  seen  him  drink, 


60  Winning  the  Wilderness 

nor  had  taken  a  parcel  from  his  store  that  had  been  tied  up 
with  soiled  fingers. 

The  Jacobs  House  register  might  be  splashed  with  ink, 
but  the  ledger  records  of  the  business  concern  were  a  joy 
to  the  eye. 

At  Stewart's  words  Champers  shut  the  door  with  a  slam 
and  blustered  toward  the  stove,  crowding  smaller  men  out 
of  their  places  before  it. 

"  I  am  glad  I  don't  have  to  run  other  men's  affairs  — " 
he  began,  when  the  rear  door  flew  open  and  a  slender  young 
Negro  hurried  in  with  the  announcement: 

"De  stage  done  sighted  approachin'  from  de  east, 
gen'lemen.  Hit's  done  comin'  into  town  right  now." 

"  All  right,  Bo  Peep ;  take  care  of  the  team,"  Stewart 
responded,  and  a  general  re-swarming  of  the  crowd 
followed. 

Just  before  the  stage  —  a  covered  wagon  drawn  by  two 
Indian  ponies  —  reached  the  Jacobs  House  a  young  man 
crossed  the  street  and  entered  the  door.  Some  men  are  born 
with  a  presence  that  other  men  must  recognize  everywhere. 
To  this  man's  quiet,  "Hello,  gentlemen,"  the  crowd 
responded,  almost  to  a  man: 

"  Good  morning,  Doctor." 

"Hello,  Carey." 

"Hello,  Doc." 

Each  man  felt  the  wish  to  be  recognized  by  such  greet 
ing,  and  a  place  was  given  him  at  once.  Only  Champers, 
the  big  man,  turned  away  with  a  scowl. 

"Always  gets  the  best  of  everything,  even  to  the  first 
chance  to  get  his  mail,"  he  muttered  under  his  breath. 

But  the  mail  was   soon   of   secondary   interest  to  the 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  61 

dealer  in  real  estate.  Letters  were  of  less  importance  to 
him  than  strangers,  and  a  stranger  had  registered  at  the 
desk  and  was  waiting  while  Stewart  called  out  the  mail  in 
the  postoffice  department.  Champers  leaned  over  the 
shoulders  of  shorter  men  to  read  the  entry  in  a  cramped 
little  hand,  the  plain  name,  "Thomas  Smith,  Wilmington, 
Delaware."  Then  he  looked  at  the  man  and  drew  his  own 
conclusions. 

Dr.  Carey  was  standing  beside  the  letter  counter  when 
Todd  Stewart  read  out,  " '  Mr.  James  Shirley,' "  and,  with 
a  little  scrutiny  — "  *  Southwest  of  Carey's  Crossing.' 
Anybody  here  know  Mr.  James  Shirley?" 

The  stranger  made  a  hasty  step  forward,  but  Dr.  Carey 
had  already  taken  the  letter. 

"I'll  take  care  of  that  for  you,  Stewart,"  he  said 
quietly.  And  turning,  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the 
stranger. 

It  was  but  a  glance,  and  the  latter  stepped  aside. 

Men  formed  quick  judgments  on  the  frontier.  As 
Carey  passed  the  register  he  read  the  latest  entry  there,  and 
like  Champers  he  too  drew  his  own  conclusions.  At  the 
door  he  turned  and  said  to  Jacobs. 

"Tell  Bo  Peep  to  have  your  best  horse  ready  by  one 
o'clock  for  a  long  ride." 

"All  right,  Doctor,"  Jacobs  responded. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  Jacobs  House  dining  room  was 
crowded  for  the  midday  meal.  By  natural  selection  men 
fell  into  their  places.  Stewart  and  Jacobs,  with  Dr.  Carey 
and  Pryor  Gaines,  the  young  minister  school  teacher,  had 
a  table  to  themselves.  The  other  patrons  sat  at  the  long 
board,  while  the  little  side  table  for  two  was  filled  today 


62  Winning  the  Wilderness 

with  Champers,  the  real  estate  man,  and  the  latest  arrival, 
Mr.  Thomas  Smith,  of  Wilmington,  Delaware. 

"  Who's  the  man  with  the  dark  mustache  up  there  ? " 
Thomas  Smith  asked. 

"  Doc  Carey,"  Champers  replied  with  a  scowl. 

"You  don't  seem  to  need  him?"  There  was  a  double 
meaning  in  the  query,  and  Champers  caught  both. 

"No  ways,"  he  responded. 

"  Has  some  influence  here  ?  "  the  stranger  asserted  rather 
than  questioned. 

"  A  lot.  Has  the  whole  town  under  hoodoo.  It's  named 
for  him.  He  has  all  the  doctoring  he  can  do  and  won't  half 
charge,  so's  no  other  doctor'll  come  here.  That's  no  way 
to  build  up  a  town.  He'd  get  up  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  to  doctor  a  widder's  cow.  Now,  sure  he  would, 
when  he  knows  even  a  dead  cow'd  make  business  for  the 
butcher  to  render  up  into  grease  and  the  cattle  dealer  to  sell 
another  cow." 

"  Not  your  style  of  a  man  then?  "  the  stranger  observed. 

"  Oh,  pshaw,  no,  but,  as  I  say,  he's  got  the  whole  country 
hoodoo'd.  Notice  how  everybody  give  him  right  of  way 
to  get  his  mail  first?  Why  him?  And  hear  him  order  the 
best  horse?  I'll  bet  a  tree  claim  in  hades  right  now  that 
he's  off  somewhere  to  doctor  some  son  of  a  gun  out  of 
cussed  good  will." 

"  Who  is  this  James  Shirley  whose  mail  he  seems  to  look 
after?" 

There  was  a  half-tone  lowering  of  the  voice  as  Smith 
pronounced  the  name,  which  was  not  lost  on  Champers, 
whose  business  was  to  catch  men  at  all  corners. 

"Jim  Shirley  lives  out  in  one  of  the  rich  valleys  west. 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  63 

Him  and  a  fellow  named  Aydelot  have  some  big  notions  of 
things  out  there.  I  don't  know  the  doc's  claim  to  control 
his  mail,  but  nobody  here  would  deny  Carey  any  danged 
thing  he  wanted."  Champers  twisted  his  face  in  disgust. 

"You  are  in  the  real  estate  business  here?"  Thomas 
Smith  asked  after  a  pause,  as  if  the  subject  fell  into 
entirely  new  lines. 

"Yes,"  Champers  answered  absently  with  eyes  alert  on 
the  opposite  wall. 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  later,  Mr.—  " 

"Champers  —  Darley  Champers,"  and  the  dealer  in  land 
shoved  a  soiled  card  across  the  table.  "  Come  in  any  time. 
This  cold  snap  will  soon  be  over  and  I  can  show  you  no 
end  of  land  worth  a  gold  mine  any  time  you  are  ready. 
But  make  it  soon.  Land's  goin'  faster  here'n  you  Delaware 
fellers  think,  and"  —  in  a  lower  voice  —  "Doc  Carey's 
drivin'  over  it  all  the  time,  and  that  Jew  of  a  Jacobs  ain't 
in  business  here  on  account  of  no  lung  trouble,  and  his 
hatred  of  saloons  is  somethin'  pisen." 

They  finished  their  meal  in  silence,  for  they  had  come 
to  an  understanding.  The  afternoon  was  too  short  and 
cold  for  real  estate  business  to  be  brisk,  and  nobody  in 
Carey's  Crossing  noted  that  the  front  window  of  Darley 
Champer's  little  office  was  covered  with  a  newspaper  blind 
all  the  rest  of  that  day,  nor  did  anybody  pay  attention  to 
the  whereabouts  of  the  stranger — Mr.  Thomas  Smith,  of 
Wilmington,  Delaware  —  during  this  same  time.  Nobody, 
except  John  Jacobs,  of  the  Jacobs  House,  who  gained  his 
knowledge  mostly  by  instinct;  never,  at  least,  by  rude 
inquiry.  He  had  been  up  on  the  roof  helping  Bo  Peep 
to  fasten  the  sign  over  the  door  which  the  wind  had  torn 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


loose.  From  this  place  he  could  see  above  the  newspaper 
screen  of  the  window  across  the  street  that  Champers  and 
Smith  were  in  a  tremendously  earnest  consultation.  He 
would  have  thought  nothing  of  it  had  not  Champers 
chanced  to  sight  him  on  the  roof  and  immediately  read 
justed  the  newspaper  blind  to  prevent  observation. 

"  I'll  offer  to  sell  Darley  a  window  shade  cheap  tomorrow 
and  see  how  he  bites,"  and  the  little  Jewish  merchant  smiled 
shrewdly  at  the  thought. 

Out  on  the  trail  that  day  the  snow  lay  deeper  to  the 
westward,  hiding  the  wagon  ruts.  The  dead  sunflower 
stalks  made  only  a  faint  black  edging  along  the  white 
monotony  of  the  way  and  sometimes  on  bleak  swells  there 
were  no  markings  at  all.  Some  distance  from  Carey's 
Crossing  a  much  heavier  snowfall,  covering  a  wide  swath, 
under  which  the  trails  were  entirely  lost,  had  wandered  in 
zigzag  lines  down  from  the  northwest. 

In  the  early  afternoon  Dr.  Horace  Carey  had  started 
west  on  the  surest  horse  in  the  Stewart-Jacobs  livery  stable, 
taking  his  old-fashioned  saddle-bags  with  him  through 
force  of  habit,  and  by  mid-afternoon  was  floundering  in 
the  edge  of  this  deeper  snowfall. 

Nature  must  have  meant  Horace  Carey  for  the  plains. 
He  was  of  medium  height,  compactly  built,  without  an 
ounce  of  unnecessary  weight.  The  well-rounded  form  took 
away  all  hint  of  spareness,  while  it  did  not  destroy  the 
promise  of  endurance.  His  heavy,  dark  hair  and  dark  gray 
eyes,  his  straight  nose  and  firm  mouth  under  a  dark  mus 
tache,  and  his  well-set  chin  made  up  an  attractive  but  not 
handsome  face.  The  magnetism  of  his  personality  was  not 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  65 

in  manly  beauty.  It  was  an  inborn  gift  and  would  have 
characterized  him  in  any  condition  in  life.  There  was 
about  him  a  genial  dignity  that  made  men  look  up  to  him 
and  a  willingness  to  serve  that  made  selfishness  seem  mean. 
He  could  not  have  been  thirty,  although  he  had  been  on 
the  plains  for  five  years.  The  West  was  people  by  young 
men.  It's  need  for  daring  spirits  found  less  response  in 
men  of  maturer  life.  But  the  West  had  most  need  for 
humane  men.  The  bully,  the  dare-devil,  the  brutal,  and  the 
selfish  were  refuse  before  the  force  that  swept  the  frontier 
onward;  but  they  were  never  elements  in  real  state  build 
ing.  Before  such  men  as  Carey  they  lost  power. 

The  doctor  rode  away  toward  the  west,  bowing  his  head 
before  the  strong  wind  that  he  knew  too  well  to  fear,  yet 
wondering  as  he  rode  if  he  had  done  wisely  to  dare  the 
deepening  snow  of  the  buried  trail. 

"I  might  have  waited  a  day,  anyhow,"  he  thought. 
"It's  a  devil  of  a  ride  over  to  Jim  Shirley's,  and  we  got 
only  the  tag  ends  of  that  storm  down  at  the  Crossing  from 
the  looks  of  this.  However,  I  may  as  well  keep  at  it  now." 

He  surged  on  for  a  few  miles  without  any  signs  of  an 
open  trail  appearing.  Then  he  dropped  to  a  slow  canter. 

"I'd  better  get  this  worry  straightened  and  my  mind 
untangled  if  I  am  to  have  any  comfort  on  this  ride,"  he 
said  aloud,  as  was  his  wont  to  do  when  out  in  the  open 
alone.  "  Everything  happens  to  a  man  who  gives  too  much 
leeway  to  that  indefinite  inside  guide  saying,  'Do  this! 
Let  that  alone ! '  And  yet  that  guide  hasn't  failed  me  when 
I've  listened  to  it." 

He  let  the  pony  have  the  rein  as  he  looked  ahead  with 
unseeing  eyes. 


66  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"What  made  me  take  this  day?  First,  everybody  is 
well  enough  to  be  left  for  two  or  three  days,  good  time 
for  a  vacation,  and  Stewart  can  take  care  of  emergencies 
always.  Second,  I  promised  Jim  I'd  see  that  his  letters  got 
to  him  straightway.  Third,  yes,  third,  something  said, 
*  Go  now ! '  But  here's  the  other  side.  Why  go  on  the  heels 
of  a  snowstorm?  Why  not  keep  Jim's  letter  a  day  or  two? 
It's  in  my  hands.  And  why  mistrust  a  man  who  calls  him 
self  innocent  'Thomas  Smith?'  That's  it.  He's  too  inno 
cent.  There's  no  place  on  these  wide  Kansas  prairies  for 
that  man  Thomas  Smith.  He'd  better  get  back  to  his  home 
and  his  real  name  at  once." 

The  doctor  smiled  at  the  thought,  then  he  frowned  at 
the  cold  wind  and  the  shifting  snows  above  the  trail. 

"You  are  a  fool  —  a  stack  of  fools,  Dr.  Horace  Carey, 
to  beat  out  of  town  miles  on  miles  on  a  fool's  errand  over  a 
lost  trail,  trusting  your  instinct  that  never  lost  you  a 
direction  yet,  and  all  because  of  an  inward  call  to  an  unre- 
vealed  duty.  Some  other  day  will  do  as  well.  And  here's 
where  I  may  as  wrell  cut  off  these  notions  of  being  led  by 
inside  signals.  What  should  make  me  sight  danger  in  a 
man  I  never  saw  before,  and  who  will  probably  go  out  on 
the  stage  tomorrow  morning?  Oh,  well,  the  Lord  made 
us  as  we  are.  He  knows  why." 

He  wheeled  the  pony  about  and  began  to  trot  toward 
Carey's  Crossing.  Suddenly  he  halted. 

"Let  me  see.  I'm  not  twenty  miles  along,  though  I've 
come  at  a  good  rate.  I  believe  I'll  cut  across  northwest 
and  hit  some  of  the  settlers  up  on  Big  Wolf  Creek  for 
the  night.  Lucky  I've  no  wife  to  worry  about  me." 

A  wave  of  sadness  swept  over  the  man's  face  —  just  a 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  67 

sweep  of  sorrow  that  left  no  mark.  He  turned  abruptly 
from  the  trail  and  struck  in  a  definite  direction  across  the 
snow-covered  prairie.  Presently  his  path  veered  to  the 
north,  then  to  northwest. 

"I  know  an  ugly  little  creek  running  into  Big  Wolf 
that's  the  dickens  to  cross.  I'll  run  clear  round  it,  even 
if  it  takes  longer.  After  all,  I'm  doing  just  what  I  said 
I  wouldn't  do.  I  don't  know  why  I  didn't  go  on,  nor  why 
I  am  tacking  off  up  here.  Something  tells  me  to  do  it, 
and  I'll  do  it." 

But  however  changeable  of  mind  he  seemed  to  himself, 
Dr.  Carey  was  a  man  who  formed  his  judgments  so  quickly 
and  acted  upon  them  so  promptly  that  he  seemed  most 
stable  to  other  men.  He  rode  forward  now  to  a  land  wave 
that  dropped  on  one  side  to  a  creek,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  where  black  shrubbery  marked  the  water  line.  A 
long  swell  of  wind  swung  down  the  valley,  whirling  the 
snow  in  eddies  before  it.  As  the  doctor's  eye  followed 
them,  he  suddenly  noted  a  red  scarf  lift  above  the  tallest 
clumps  of  bushes  and  flutter  out  to  its  full  length,  then 
drop  again  as  the  wind  swell  passed. 

"  There's  nobody  in  fifteen  miles  of  here.  I  reckon  that 
scarf  blew  there  and  caught  some  time  this  fall  when 
somebody  was  going  out  on  the  trail.  Mighty  human 
looking  thing,  though.  It  seemed  waving  a  signal  to  me. 
But  I  must  hurry  on." 

He  hastened  at  a  gallop  up  the  ridge  away  from  the 
creek,  his  mind  still  on  that  red  scarf  flung  about  by  the 
winter  wind. 

"  It  was  a  strange  thing,"  he  thought,  "  but  every  human 
token  is  startling  out  here.  What's  that  now?" 


68  Winning  the  Wilderness 

The  doctor  had  a  plainsman's  ear  as  well  as  a  plains 
man's  eye.  As  he  listened,  through  the  wail  of  the  wind 
borne  along  the  distance,  he  caught  the  words  of  a  song, 
low  and  pleading  like  a  plaintive  cry  for  help : 

Though,  like  the  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  rest  'a  stone— 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 

It  was  a  woman's  voice  and  Carey  faced  about  to  listen. 
He  knew  it  came  from  the  bushes  below  the  red  scarf.  So 
he  changed  his  course  and  hurried  around  a  bend  in  the 
stream  to  the  other  side  of  the  brush  where  Virginia 
Aydclot  stood  beside  Juno. 

"  I'm  afraid  there  isn't  even  a  stone  to  rest  on  here, 
Madam.  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you?  "  he  said,  lifting 
his  hand  toward  his  cap  in  semi-military  salute. 

Virginia  stood  looking  at  the  stranger  with  a  half- 
comprehending  gaze.  She  had  been  less  than  an  hour 
beside  the  bushes,  but  it  had  seemed  to  her  like  many  hours. 
And  the  terrifying  certainty  of  a  night  alone  on  the  prairie 
made  the  sudden  presence  of  a  human  being  unreal  to  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  am  Dr.  Carey,  of  Carey's  Cross 
ing,  and  I  was  striking  across  the  prairie  to  the  Big  Wolf 
settlement  when  I  saw  your  scarf  and  heard  your  singing. 
I  took  them  both  to  be  distress  signals  and  came  over  to 
see  if  you  needed  me." 

One  had  only  to  listen  to  Dr.  Carey's  voice  to  under 
stand  why  Darley  Champers  should  accuse  him  of  laying 
a  charm  on  the  whole  settlement. 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  69 

Virginia  recovered  herself  quickly,  saying  with  a  wan 
smile : 

"You  came  just  in  time,  Doctor.  I  am  lost  and  need 
help.  I  was  going  to  you,  anyhow." 

Each  one's  face  was  so  muffled  against  the  wind  that 
the  eyes  and  lips  and  a  bit  of  the  cheeks  alone  were  visible. 

"  Not  a  bad-looking  woman  for  all  the  Kansas  tan,"  the 
doctor  thought.  "  She  has  a  voice  like  a  true  Virginian 
and  fine  eyes  and  teeth.  But  any  woman  who  bundles  up 
for  a  horseback  ride  across  the  plains  on  a  day  like  this 
isn't  out  for  a  beauty  show  contest.  I've  seen  eyes  like 
that  before,  though,  and  as  to  her  voice  — " 

"I  am  Mrs.  Asher  Aydelot  from  the  Grass  River  Val 
ley,"  Virginia  went  on.  "  There  are  only  three  settlers  out 
there  now,  Mr.  Shirley  and  my  husband  and  myself.  Mr. 
Shirley  is  very  sick  with  pneumonia,  and  Mr.  Aydelot  could 
not  leave  him,  so  I  started  to  Carey's  Crossing  to  see  if  you 
could  come  to  him.  I  missed  the  trail  somewhere.  I  was 
trying  to  help,  but  I  failed,  you  see." 

The  doctor  was  looking  at  her  with  a  puzzled  expression 
which  she  thought  was  born  of  his  sympathy.  To  the 
mention  of  her  failing  he  responded  quickly: 

"No,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  you  succeeded.  I  had  started  to 
Shirley's  myself  on  personal  business,  and  I  was  letting 
some  whim  turn  me  aside.  If  you  had  kept  the  trail  we 
should  have  missed  each  other,  for  I  was  on  my  way  to 
Big  Wolf  Creek,  a  good  distance  away,  and  your  leaving 
the  trail  and  wandering  down  here  was  providential  for 
Shirley.  Shall  I  show  you  on  to  the  Crossing?" 

"Oh,  no,  Doctor,  if  you  will  only  come  back  with  me. 
I  don't  want  to  go  on,"  Virginia  insisted. 


70  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"You  are  a  regular  westerner,  Mrs.  Aydelot,"  Carey 
declared.  "  But  you  haven't  been  out  here  long.  I  heard 
of  your  passing  through  our  town  late  last  summer.  I 
was  up  on  Big  Wolf  then  and  failed  to  see  you.  I 
know  something  of  your  husband,  but  I  have  never  met 
him." 

He  helped  her  to  mount  her  horse  and  together  they 
sought  the  trail  and  followed  it  westward  in  the  face  of 
the  wind. 

Near  midnight  down  in  Jim  Shirley's  cabin  Asher 
Aydelot  turned  from  a  lull  in  the  sick  man's  ravings  to 
see  Dr.  Horace  Carey  entering  the  door  with  a  pair  of 
saddle  bags  in  his  hand. 

"Hello,  sir!     Aydelot?     I'm  Carey,  the  doctor." 

Then  as  his  quick  eye  took  in  the  haggard  face  of  the 
man  before  him,  he  said  cheerily : 

"Everything  fit  as  a  fiddle  up  your  way.  I  left  your 
cabin  snug  and  warm  as  a  prairie  dog's  hole,  and  your 
wife  is  sound  asleep  by  this  time,  with  a  big  dog  on  guard. 
Yes,  I  understand,"  he  added,  as  Asher  silently  gripped 
his  hand.  'You've  died  a  thousand  deaths  today.  Forget 
it,  and  give  me  a  hand  here.  My  own  are  too  stiff,  and  I 
must  get  these  wet  boots  off.  I  always  go  at  my  work 
dry  shod." 

He  had  pulled  a  pair  of  heavy  shoes  from  the  saddle 
bags,  and  was  removing  his  outer  coat  and  sundry  scarfs, 
wanning  his  hands  between  whiles  and  seemingly  uncon 
scious  of  the  sick  man's  presence. 

"You  are  wet  to  the  knees.  You  dared  the  short  trail 
and  the  strange  fords  of  rivers  on  a  night  so  dark  as 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  71 

this,"  Asher  declared  as  he  helped  Carey  to  put  off  his 
wrappings. 

"It's  a  doctor's  business  to  forget  himself  when  he  sees 
a  distress  signal.''  Then  Carey  added  quietly :  "  Tell 
me  about  Shirley.  What  have  you  been  doing  for 
him?" 

He  was  beside  Jim's  bunk  now  and  his  presence  seemed 
to  fill  the  whole  cabin  with  its  subtle  strength. 

"You  know  your  business,  doctor;  I'm  a  farmer," 
Asher  said,  as  he  watched  this  frontier  physician  moving 
deftly  about  his  work. 

v.      "Well,  if  you  mean  to  farm  so  far  from  pill  bags  you 
e  done  well  to  follow  my  trade  a  little,  as  you  seem  to 
have  done  with  Shirley,"  Carey  asserted,  as  he  noted  the 
evidences  of  careful  nursing. 

"Oh,  Virginia  —  Mrs.  Aydelot  —  helped  me,"  Asher 
assured  him.  "  She's  a  nurse  by  instinct. 

"What  did  you  call  your  wife?"  the  doctor  inquired. 

"  Virginia  —  from  her  own  state.  Pretty  sick  man 
here."  Asher  said  this  as  Dr.  Carey  suddenly  bent  over 
Shirley  with  stern  eyes  and  tightening  lips.  But  the  eyes 
grew  tender  when  Jim  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"  You're  all  right,  Shirley.    You  must  go  to  sleep  now." 

And  Shirley,  who  in  his  delirium  had  fought  his  neighbor 
all  day,  became  as  obedient  as  a  child,  as  a  very  sick  child, 
that  night  under  Horace  Carey's  hand. 

The  next  morning  Virginia  Aydelot  was  not  able  to 
rise  from  her  bed,  and  for  many  days  she  could  do  nothing 
more  than  to  sit  in  the  rocking  chair  by  the  windows  and 
absorb  sunshine. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  Carey  had   reached   Shirley's 


72  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Asher  went  down  the  river  in  the  early  afternoon  to  find 
how  Jim's  case  was  progressing,  leaving  his  wife  com 
fortably  tucked  up  in  the  rocking  chair  by  the  west  win 
dow.  The  snow  was  gone  and  the  early  December  day  was 
as  crisp  and  beautiful  as  an  Indian  summer  day  in  a  colder 
climate.  Virginia  sat  watching  the  shadows  of  the  clouds 
flow  along  the  ground  and  the  prairie  hues  changing  with 
the  angle  of  the  afternoon  sunlight.  Suddenly  a  sound 
of  ponies'  feet  outside  was  followed  by  a  loud  rap  on  the 
door. 

"Come  in!"  Virginia  called.     "Lie  down,  Pilot!" 

Pilot  did  not  obey,  but  sat  up  alert  before  his  mistress 
as  Darley  Champers'  bulk  filled  the  doorway. 

"  Excuse  me,  Madam,"  the  real  estate  dealer  said,  lifting 
his  hat.  "Me  and  my  friend,  Mr.  Smith  out  there,  are 
looking  up  a  claim  for  a  friend  of  ours  somewhere  out  in 
the  Grass  River  settlement.  Can  you  tell  me  who  owns  the 
last  claim  taken  up  down  the  river,  and  how  far  it  is  from 
here?" 

"  Mr.  Shirley's  claim  is  a  few  miles  down  the  river,  if 
you  go  by  the  short  trail  and  ford  at  the  bends,  but  much 
longer  if  you  go  around  by  the  long  trail,"  Virginia 
explained. 

"  Is  it  occupied  ? "  Champers  put  the  question  in  a 
careless  tone. 

Pilot's  bristles,  that  had  fallen  at  the  sound  of  Virginia's 
voice,  rose  again  with  the  query.  It  is  well  to  be  wary  of 
one  whom  a  dog  distrusts.  But  the  woman's  instinct  in 
Virginia  responded  little  to  the  dog's  uneasiness,  and  she 
replied  courteously: 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Shirley  is  there,  very  sick." 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  73 

"Um,  who  have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  now?" 
Champers  asked  awkwardly,  as  if  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Mrs.  Asher  Aydelot." 

"Well,  now,  I've  heard  of  Aydelot.  Where  is  your 
man  today?  I'd  like  to  meet  him,  Mrs.  A." 

It  was  the  man's  way  of  being  friendly,  but  even  a 
duller-fibred  man  than  Champers  would  have  understood 
Mrs.  Aydelot's  tone  as  she  said: 

"You  will  find  him  at  Shirley's,  or  on  the  way.  Only 
the  long  trail  winds  around  some  bluffs,  and  you  might  pass 
each  other  without  knowing  it." 

"How  many  men  in  this  settlement  now?"  Champers 
asked. 

"Only  two,"  Virginia  replied,  patting  Pilot's  head 
involuntarily. 

"  Only  two !  That's  sixteen  more'n'll  ever  make  it  go 
here,"  Darley  Champers  declared.  "  Excuse  me  for  say 
ing  it,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  but  I've  been  pretty  much  over 
Kansas,  and  this  is  the  poorest  show  for  settlement  the 
Lord  ever  left  out  of  doors.  I've  always  heard  this  valley 
was  full  of  claims  you  simply  couldn't  give  away,  but  my 
friend,  who  has  no  end  of  money  and  influence  fur  devel- 
opin'  the  country,  wanted  me  to  look  over  the  ground 
along  the  Grass  River.  It's  dead  desolation,  that's  all ;  no 
show  on  earth  in  fifty  year  out  here,  and  in  fifty  year  we 
won't  none  of  us  care  for  more'n  six  feet  of  ground  any 
where.  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Madam.  You  must  be  awfully 
lonely  here,  but  you'll  be  gettin'  away  soon,  I  hope.  I 
must  be  off.  Thank  you,  Madam,  for  the  information. 
Good  day,"  and  he  left  the  cabin  abruptly. 

The  sunshine  grew  pallid  and  the  prairies  lav  dull  and 


74  Winning  the  Wilderness 

endless.  The  loneliness  of  solitude  hung  with  a  dead  heavi 
ness  and  hope  beat  at  the  lowest  ebb  for  Virginia  Aydelot, 
trying  bravely  to  deny  his  charge  against  the  future  of 
the  land  she  had  struggled  so  to  dream  into  fruitfulness. 
She  was  only  a  woman,  strong  to  love  and  brave  to  endure, 
but  neither  by  nature  nor  heritage  shrewd  to  read  the 
tricks  of  selfish  trade.  And  she  believed  that  while  Asher 
and  Jim  Shirley  were  hopeful  dreamers  like  herself,  here 
was  an  ill-mannered  but  unprejudiced  man  who  saw  the 
situation  as  they  could  not  see  it. 

"  That  woman  and  her  fool  dog  were  half  afraid  of  me 
at  first.  They  don't  know  that  women  aren't  in  my  line. 
I'd  never  harm  a  one  of  'em." 

"They're  in  my  line  always.  Was  she  good  looking? 
I  never  pass  a  pretty  woman,"  Thomas  Smith  said  smoothly. 

"  Don't  be  a  danged  fool,  Smith.  I  might  cut  a  man's 
throat  to  some  extent,  if  it  would  help  my  business  any, 
but  I'd  cut  it  more'n  some  if  he  forgets  his  manners  round 
a  woman.  We're  a  coarse,  grasping  lot  out  here  fur  as 
property  goes,  and  we  ain't  got  drawing-room  manners, 
but  it  takes  your  smug  little  easterners  to  be  the  real  dirty 
devils.  Come  on." 

And  Thomas  Smith  knew  that  the  big,  coarse-grained 
man  was  sincere. 

"  Yonder's  Aydelot  now.  Want  to  see  him  ? "  Darley 
Champers  declared,  sighting  Asher  down  the  short  trail 
beyond  the  deep  bend. 

"I've  no  business  with  him,  and  he's  the  man  I  don't 
want  to  see,"  Thomas  Smith  said  hastily.  "  I'll  ride  on 
out  of  sight  round  this  bend  and  wait  for  you.  It's  a 
good  place  when  you  don't  want  to  be  seen." 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  75 

"  Depends  on  how  much  of  a  plainsman  Aydelot  is.  He 
ought  to  have  sighted  both  of  us  half  a  mile  back," 
Champers  declared. 

But  Smith  hurried  away  and  was  soon  behind  the  low 
bluff  at  the  deep  bend.  Asher  Aydelot  had  seen  the  two 
before  they  saw  him,  and  he  saw  them  part  company  and 
only  one  come  on  to  meet  him. 

"You're  Aydelot  from  the  claim  up  the  river,  I  s'pose. 
I'm  just  out  lookin'  at  the  country.  Not  much  to  it  but 
looks,"  Champers  declared  as  the  two  met  at  the  deep  bend. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  my  name  is  Aydelot,"  Asher  replied,  deciding 
at  once  that  this  stranger  was  not  to  be  accepted  on  sight,  a 
judgment  based  not  on  a  woman's  instinct  but  on  a  man's 
experience.  { 

"Any  of  these  claims  ever  been  entered?"  Champers 
asked. 

"Yes,  sir;  most  of  them,"  Asher  responded. 

"  I  see.  Couldn't  make  it  out  here.  I  s'pose  you'll  get 
out  next.  Hard  place  to  take  root.  Most  too  far  away, 
and  land's  a  little  thin,  I  see,"  the  real  estate  dealer  remarked 
carelessly. 

"Yes,  it's  pretty  well  out,"  Asher  assented. 

"The  river  ever  get  low  here?"  was  the  next  query. 

"  Not  often,  in  the  winter,"  Asher  replied. 

"Most  too  uncertain  for  water  power,  though,  and  the 
railroad  ain't  comin'  this  way  at  all.  I  must  be  gettin'  on. 
One  man's  too  few  to  be  travelin'  so  fur  from  civilization." 

"  Come  up  to  the  cabin  for  the  night,"  Asher  said,  with 
a  plainsman's  courtesy. 

"  Thank  you,  no.  Hope  to  see  you  again  nearer  to  the 
Lord's  ground;  losin'  game  here.  Goodby." 


76  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Asher  did  not  look  like  a  disappointed  man  when  he 
reached  the  Sunflower  Inn. 

"Best  news  in  the  world,"  he  declared  when  Virginia 
related  what  had  happened  in  the  cabin  that  afternoon. 
"  A  man  who  goes  prospecting  around  the  Kansas  prairies 
doesn't  discourage  the  poor  cuss  he  pities;  he  tries  to 
encourage  the  wretch  to  hold  on  to  land  he  wouldn't  have 
himself.  Listen  to  me,  Virgie.  That  man  has  his  eye  on 
Grass  River  right  now.  I  know  his  breed." 

Meanwhile  the  early  dusk  found  Champers  and  Smith 
approaching  Shirley's  premises. 

"I  don't  know  about  Aydelot,"  Champers  declared  as 
they  lariated  their  ponies  beyond  the  corral.  "  He's  one  of 
the  clear-eyed  fellows  who  sees  a  good  thing  about  as  soon 
as  you  sight  it  yourself,  and  then  he  turns  clam  and  leach 
and  you  won't  move  him  nor  get  nothin'  out  of  him,  and 
that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  I  mean,  you  say  he  does  ?  "  Smith 
seemed  too  preoccupied  to  follow  his  own  words,  but 
Champers  followed  Smith  shrewdly  enough. 

They  made  a  hasty  but  careful  examination  of  the 
premises,  keeping  wide  of  the  cabin  where  the  sick  man  lay. 

"He's  got  three  horses  in  there.  He's  well  fixed," 
Champers  declared,  peering  into  the  stable,  where  it  was 
too  dark  to  discover  that  the  third  horse  was  Dr.  Carey's. 
"  Let's  hike  off  for  some  deserted  shack  for  the  night  and 
get  an  early  start  for  the  Crossing  in  the  morning.  Easy 
trick,  this,  gettin'  in  and  out  of  here  unseen.  And  it's  one 
of  the  best  claims  on  Grass  River." 

"Couldn't  we  slip  into  the  cabin?"  Smith  asked  in  a 
half  whisper.  "If  he's  too  sick"  —  Something  in  the 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  77 

man's  face  made  it  look  diabolical  in  the  fading  twilight, 
and  he  seemed  about  to  start  toward  the  house. 

"Now,  see  here,  Mr.  Smith,"  Champers  said  with  slow 
sternness.  "What'd  I  say  back  there  about  women? 
Neither  we  ain't  man-slaughterers  out  here,  though  your 
Police  Gazette  and  your  dime  novels  paint  us  that  way. 
There's  more  murderers  per  capiter  to  a  single  street  in 
New  York  than  in  the  whole  state  of  Kansas,  right  now. 
If  it's  land  and  money,  we're  after  it,  tooth  an'  toenail,  but 
forget  the  thing  in  your  mind  this  minute  or  you  an'  me 
parts  company  right  here,  an'  you  can  hoof  it  back  to 
Carey's  Crossing  or  Wilmington,  Delaware." 

Smith  made  no  reply  and  they  mounted  their  ponies  and 
galloped  away. 

And  all  the  while  Dr.  Horace  Carey,  inside  the  unlighted 
cabin,  had  watched  their  movements  with  grim  curiosity, 
even  to  the  hesitating,  half-expressed  intention  of  entering 
the  dwelling. 

"  Champers  would  pull  up  another  man's  stakes  and  drive 
them  into  his  own  ground  if  he  wanted  them,  but  that 
Thomas  Smith  would  drive  them  through  the  other  fellow's 
body  if  nobody  else  was  around,"  was  the  doctor's  mental 
comment  as  he  went  outside  and  watched  the  course  of  the 
two  men  till  the  twilight  gathered  them  in. 

When  the  turning  point  came  to  the  sick  man,  the 
up-climb  was  marvelous,  as  his  powers  of  recoil  asserted 
themselves. 

"It  is  just  a  matter  of  self-control  and  good  spirits 
now,  Shirley,  and  you  have  both,"  Dr.  Carey  said,  as  he 
sat  by  his  patient  on  the  ninth  day. 


78  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"You  staid  the  game  out,  Carey,"  Shirley  said  with  an 
undertone  of  hopelessness  behind  his  smile.  "What  pos 
sessed  you  to  happen  in,  anyhow?" 

"  I  was  possessed  not  to  come  and  turned  back  after  I'd 
started.  If  I  hadn't  met  Mrs.  Aydelot  coming  after  me 
I'd  have  rampsed  off  up  on  Big  Wolf  Creek  for  a  week, 
maybe,  and  missed  your  case  entirely." 

"  And  likewise  my  big  fee,"  Jim  interrupted.  "  Some 
men  are  born  lucky.  And  so  Mrs.  Aydelot  went  after  you. 
Asher's  a  fortunate  man  to  have  a  wife  like  Virginia, 
although  he  had  to  give  up  an  inheritance  for  her." 

"How  was  that?"  Carey  asked,  glad  to  see  the  hopeless 
look  leaving  Jim's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  pretty  long  story  for  a  sick  man.  The 
mere  facts  are  that  Asher  Aydelot  was  to  have  bank  stock, 
a  good  paying  hotel,  and  a  splendid  big  farm  if  he'd 
promise  never  to  marry  any  descendant  of  Jerome  Thaine, 
of  Virginia.  Asher  hiked  out  West  and  enlisted  in  the 
cavalry  and  did  United  States  scout  duty  for  two  years, 
hoping  to  forget  Virginia  Thaine,  who  is  a  descendant  of 
this  Jerome  Thaine.  But  it  wasn't  any  use.  Distance 
don't  count,  you  know,  in  cases  like  that." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

Shirley  was  too  sick  to  notice  Dr.  Carey's  face,  and  he 
did  not  remember  afterward  how  low  and  hard  those  three 
words  sounded. 

"It  seems  Virginia  had  pulled  Asher  through  a  fever 
in  a  Rebel  hospital,  and  we  all  love  our  nurses."  Jim  patted 
the  doctor's  knee  as  he  said  this.  "  And  when  the  father's 
will  was  read  out  against  ever,  ever,  ever  his  son  marrying 
a  Thaine,  Asher  promptly  said  that  the  whole  inheritance, 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  79 

bank  stock,  hotel,  and  farm,  might  go  where  —  the  old 
man  Aydelot  had  already  gone  —  maybe.  Anyhow,  he 
married  Virginia  Thaine  and  she  was  game  to  come  out 
here  and  pioneer  on  a  Grass  River  claim.  Strange  what  a 
woman  will  do  for  love,  isn't  it?  And  to  go  on  a  forty- 
mile  ride  to  save  a  worthless  pup's  life !  That's  me.  Think 
of  the  daughter  of  one  of  those  old  Virginia  homes  up  to 
a  trick  like  that?" 

"You've  talked  enough  now." 

Shirley  looked  up  in  surprise  at  this  stern  command, 
but  Dr.  Carey  had  gone  to  the  other  side  of  the  cabin  and 
sat  staring  out  at  the  river  running  bank-full  at  the  base 
of  the  little  slope. 

When  he  turned  to  his  patient  again,  the  old  tender  look 
was  in  his  eyes.  Men  loved  Jim  Shirley  if  they  cared  for 
him  at  all.  And  now  the  pathetic  hopelessness  of  Jim's 
face  cut  deep  as  Carey  studied  it. 

"I  say,  Shirley,  did  you  ever  know  a  man  back  East 
named  Thomas  Smith?"  he  asked. 

"No.  Strange  name,  that!  Where'd  you  run  onto  it? 
Smith!  Smith!  How  do  you  spell  it?"  Jim  replied 
indifferently. 

"With  a  spoonful  of  quinine  in  epsom  salts,  taken  raw, 
if  you  don't  pay  attention.  Now  listen  to  me."  The  doc 
tor's  tone  was  as  cheery  as  ever. 

"  Well,  don't  make  it  necessary  for  me  to  tell  you  when 
you've  talked  enough." 

In  spite  of  the  joking  words,  there  was  a  listless  hope 
lessness  in  Shirley's  voice,  matching  the  dull,  listless  eyes. 
And  Horace  Carey  rose  to  the  situation  at  once. 

"  A  stranger  named  Thomas  Smith  came  to  the  Crossing 


80  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  day  I  came  down  here.  Rather  a  small  man,  with  close- 
set,  dark  eyes;  signed  his  name  in  a  cramped,  left-handed 
writing.  I  noticed  his  right  hand  seemed  a  little  stiff,  sort 
of  paralyzed  at  the  wrist.  But  here's  the  funny  thing. 
He  made  me  uneasy,  and  he  made  me  think  of  you.  Could 
you  identify  him?  He  looked  as  much  like  you  as  I  look 
like  that  young  darkey,  Bo  Peep,  up  at  the  Jacobs  House." 

"  None  of  my  belongings.  You  are  a  delicate  plant  to 
be  so  sensitive  to  strangers."  Jim  sighed  from  mental 
weariness  more  than  from  physical  weakness. 

"I  was  sensitive,  and  when  I  heard  Stewart  call  out 
your  name  in  the  mail  and  saw  this  man  step  up  as  if  to 
take  the  letter,  I  took  it.  And  if  you'll  take  a  brace  and 
decide  it's  worth  wrhile  you  can  have  it.  It's  addressed  in 
a  woman's  handwriting,  not  a  Thomas  Smith  style  of 
pinching  letters  out  of  a  penholder  and  squeezing  them  off 
the  pen  point.  Lie  down  there,  man ! " 

For  Jim  was  sitting  up,  listening  intently.  With  trem 
bling  fingers  he  took  the  letter  and  read  it  eagerly.  Then 
he  looked  at  Carey  with  eyes  in  which  listlessness  had  given 
place  to  determination. 

"  Doctor,  I  was  ready  to  throw  up  the  game  five  minutes 
ago.  Now  I'll  do  anything  to  get  back  to  strength  and 
work." 

"You  don't  seem  very  joyous,  however,"  the  doctor 
responded. 

"Joy  don't  belong  to  me.  We  parted  company  some 
years  ago.  But  life  is  mine." 

"And  duty?" 

"Yes,  and  duty.  Say,  Doctor,  if  you'd  ever  cared  all 
there  was  in  you  to  care  for  one  woman,  and  then  had  to 


A  Plainsman  of  the  Old  School  81 

give  her  up,  you'd  know  how  I  feel.  And  if,  then,  a  sort 
of  service  opened  up  before  you,  you'd  know  how  I  welcome 
this." 

Jim's  face,  white  from  his  illness,  was  wonderfully  hand 
some  now,  and  he  looked  at  his  friend  with  that  eager  long 
ing  for  sympathy  men  of  his  mould  need  deeply.  Horace 
Carey  stood  up  beside  the  bed  and,  looking  down  with  a 
face  where  intense  feeling  and  self-control  were  manifest, 
said  in  a  low  voice: 

"I  have  cared.  I  have  had  to  give  up,  and  I  know 
what  service  means." 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  THE  GRASSHOPPER  WAS  A  BURDEN 

Although  the  figtree  shall  not  blossom,  neither 
shall  fruit  be  in  the  vines ;  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall 
fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  the  flock 
shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no 
herd  in  the  stalls: 

Yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord. 

— HABAKKUK. 

WHILE  Jim  Shirley  was  getting  back  to  health,  he 
and  his  physician  had  many  long  talks  regarding 
the  West  and  its  future ;  its  products  and  its  people.  There 
was  only  one  topic  in  which  Horace  Carey  was  but  inter 
mittently  interested,  namely,  Jim's  neighbors  —  the  Ayde- 
lots.  At  least,  it  seemed  so  to  Jim,  who  had  loved  Asher 
from  boyhood,  and  had  taken  Virginia  on  sight  and  paid 
homage  to  her  for  all  the  years  that  followed.  Jim  accepted 
the  doctor's  manner  at  first  as  a  mere  personal  trait,  but, 
having  nothing  to  do  except  to  lie  and  think,  he  grew 
curiously  annoyed  over  it. 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me  what  ails  you?"  he  blurted  out 
one  evening,  as  the  two  sat  together  in  the  twilight. 

"About  what?"  the  doctor  inquired.  "If  I  knew,  I 
might  even  risk  my  own  medicine  to  get  over  it." 

"Don't  joke,  Horace  Carey,  not  with  a  frail  invalid. 
I've  tried  all  day  to  talk  to  you  about  my  neighbors  and 
you  turn  the  subject  away  as  if  it  was  of  no  consequence, 
and  now,  tonight,  you  settle  down  and  say,  '  Tell  me  about 
the  Aydelots.'  Why  do  you  want  to  hear  in  the  dark  what 
you  won't  listen  to  in  the  daylight  ?  " 

82 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     83 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  sick  man,  Jim,  or  you  wouldn't  be  so 
silly,"  the  doctor  replied,  "but  to  please  you,  I'll  tell 
you  the  truth.  I'm  homesick." 

"Yes?" 

"And  this  Mrs.  Aydelot  was  a  Virginia  woman." 

"Yes?" 

"Well,  I'm  a  true  son  of  Virginia,  and  I  thought  it 
might  make  me  happy  to  hear  about  somebody  from  — " 

"  You  are  a  magnificent  liar,"  Jim  broke  in. 

"Evidently  it's  better  to  have  you  talk  about  your 
neighbors  than  your  medical  advisor  tonight,"  Carey 
retorted. 

"  Oh,  I  won't  say  a  word  more,"  Jim  declared. 

"  More  Ananias  magnificence !  Do  you  suppose  the 
Aydelots  will  be  down  before  we  go  away  ? "  the  doctor 
asked. 

"  We  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  take  you  with  me,  or  give  you  a 
quieting  powder  when  I  leave  here.  On  your  own  declara 
tion  you'd  do  anything  to  get  back  to  strength  and  work. 
Now,  the  only  way  to  get  well,  with  or  without  a  physician, 
is  to  get  well.  And  you'll  never  do  that  by  using  up  a 
little  more  strength  every  day  than  you  store  up  the  night 
before.  Men  haven't  sense  enough  to  be  invalids.  Nothing 
else  is  such  a  menace  to  human  life  as  the  will  of  the  man 
who  owns  that  life.  You'll  obey  my  will  for  a  month 
or  two." 

"You  are  a  —  doctor,  Carey.  No,  the  Aydelots  won't 
be  down  before  we  go  away,  because  Virginia  has  been 
sick  ever  since  that  awful  trip  to  Carey's  Crossing,"  Jim 
said  sadly. 


84  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Why  haven't  you  told  me? "  Carey's  voice  was  hardly 
audible. 

"Because  Asher  just  told  me  today,  and  because  you 
took  no  interest  in  them." 

"  Sickness  is  a  doctor's  interest,  always,"  Carey  replied 
in  a  stern  voice.  And  then  the  two  sat  in  silence  while  the 
night  shadows  darkened  the  little  cabin. 

As  soon  as  Shirley  was  able  to  ride,  he  went  up  to  Carey's 
Crossing  for  a  two  months'  stay,  and  the  Aydelots  were 
left  far  away  from  the  edge  of  civilization.  A  heavy 
snowfall  buried  all  the  trails  and  the  world,  the  happy,  busy 
world,  forgot  these  two  holding  their  claim  on  the  grim 
wilderness  frontier. 

In  after  years  they  often  talked  of  the  old  pioneer  days, 
but  of  this  one  winter  they  spoke  but  rarely. 

"We  lived  alone  with  each  other  and  God,"  Virginia 
said  once.  "  He  walked  beside  us  on  the  prairie  and  made 
our  little  sod  house  His  sanctuary.  Those  were  conse 
crated  days  to  Asher  and  me,  like  the  stormy  days  of  our 
first  love  in  the  old  war  times,  and  the  first  hours  of  our 
baby's  life.  We  were  young  and  full  of  hope  and  belief  in 
the  future,  and  we  loved  each  other.  But  we  had  need  to 
have  shoes  of  iron  and  brass,  as  Moses  promised  Asher  of 
old.  It  was  a  hard,  hard  way,  but  it  was  His  way.  I  am 
glad  we  walked  through  it  all.  It  made  the  soil  of  Kansas 
sacred  to  us  two  forevermore." 

One  March  day  spring  came  up  the  Grass  River  Valley 
with  a  glory  all  its  own,  and  sky  and  headland  and  low 
level  prairie  were  baptized  with  a  new  life.  A  month  later 
a  half-dozen  prairie  schooners  moved  out  on  the  old  sun- 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     85 

flower-bordered  trail.  Then  following  down  the  Grass 
River  trail,  the  schooner  folk  saw  that  the  land,  which 
Darley  Qiampers  had  denounced,  was  very  good.  And  for 
Asher  and  Virginia  Aydelot,  the  days  of  lonely  solitude 
were  ended. 

But  the  prairie  had  no  gifts  to  bestow.  It  yielded 
slowly  to  its  possessors  only  after  they  had  paid  out  time 
and  energy  and  hope  and  undying  faith  in  its  possibilities. 
The  little  sum  of  money  per  acre  turned  over  to  the 
Government  represented  the  very  least  of  the  cost.  There 
were  no  forests  to  lay  waste  here,  nor  marshes  to  be  drained. 
Instead,  forests  must  be  grown  and  waters  conserved. 
What  Francis  Aydelot  with  the  Clover  Valley  community 
had  struggled  to  overcome  on  the  Ohio  frontier,  his 
son,  Asher,  with  other  settlers  now  strove  to  develop 
in  Kansas.  But  these  were  young  men,  many  of  them 
graduates,  either  in  the  North  or  the  South,  from  a  four 
years'  course  in  the  University  of  the  Civil  War.  No  hard 
ship  of  the  plains  could  be  worse  than  the  things  they  had 
already  endured.  These  men  who  held  the  plow  handles 
were  State  builders  and  they  knew  it.  Into  the  State  must 
be  builded  schools  and  churches,  roads  and  bridges,  growing 
timber  and  perpetual  water  reservoirs ;  while  fields  of  grain 
and  orchard  fruitage,  and  the  product  of  flock  and  herd 
must  be  multiplied  as  the  sinews  of  life  and  larger  oppor 
tunity.  For  all  these  things  the  Kansas  plains  offered 
to  Asher  Aydelot  and  his  little  company  of  neighbors  only 
land  below,  crossed  by  a  grass-choked  river,  and  sky  over 
head,  crossed  but  rarely  by  blessed  rain-dropping  clouds. 
And  yet  the  less  the  wilderness  voluntarily  gave  up,  the 
more  these  farmer  folk  were  determined  to  win  from  it. 


86  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Truly,  they  had  need  not  only  for  large  endurance  in  the 
present,  but  for  large  vision  of  a  future  victory,  and  they 
had  both. 

The  weight  of  pioneer  hardship,  however,  fell  heaviest 
on  the  women  of  whom  Virginia  Aydelot  was  a  type.  Into 
the  crucible  out  of  which  a  state  is  moulded,  she  cast  her 
youth  and  strength  and  beauty;  her  love  of  luxury,  her 
need  for  common  comforts,  her  joy  in  the  cultured  appoint 
ments  of  society.  She  had  a  genius  for  music,  trained  in 
the  best  schools  of  the  East.  And  sometimes  in  the  lonely 
days,  she  marked  her  only  table  with  a  bit  of  charcoal  to 
the  likeness  of  a  keyboard.  Then  she  set  her  music  against 
her  clean  dishpan  and  dumbly  fingered  the  melodies  she  had 
loved,  hoping  her  hands  might  not  lose  all  their  cunning 
in  these  years  of  home-making  on  the  plains. 

The  spring  of  the  memorable  year  of  1874  opened 
auspiciously.  The  peach  trees  on  the  Aydelot  and  Shir 
ley  claims  bloomed  for  the  first  time ;  more  sod  had  been 
turned  for  wheat  and  corn ;  gardens  and  truck  patches 
were  planted;  cattle  were  grazing  beyond  the  sand  dunes 
across  the  river,  while  the  young  cottomvood  and  catalpa 
groves,  less  than  three  feet  high  it  is  true,  began  to  make 
great  splotches  of  darker  green  on  the  prairie,  promising 
cool  forest  shade  in  coming  years.  Mail  went  west  on 
the  main  trail  three  times  a  week.  The  world  was  coming 
nearer  to  the  Grass  River  settlement  which,  in  spite  of  his 
doleful  view  once,  Darley  Champers  was  helping  to  fill  up 
to  the  profit  of  the  real  estate  business. 

Carey's  Crossing,  having  given  up  all  hope  of  becoming 
a  county  seat,  had  faded  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The 
new  county  seat  of  Wolf  County  was  confidently  ex- 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     87 

pected  to  be  pitched  at  Wykerton,  up  in  the  Big  Wolf 
Creek  settlement,  where  one  Hans  Wyker,  former  saloon 
keeper  of  Carey's  Crossing,  was  building  up  a  brewery 
for  the  downfall  of  the  community.  Dr.  Carey  was  taking 
an  extended  medical  course  in  the  East,  whither  Bo  Peep 
had  followed  him.  Darley  Champers  was  hovering  like  a 
hawk  between  Wykerton  and  the  Grass  River  settlement. 
Todd  Stewart  had  taken  a  claim,  while  John  Jacobs,  tem 
porarily  in  the  East,  was  busy  planting  the  seeds  for  a  new 
town  which  no  Wyker  brewery  should  despoil. 

All  lovely  was  this  springtime  of  1874.  Midsummer 
had  another  story  to  tell.  A  story  of  a  wrathful  sun  in  a 
rainless  sky  above  a  parched  land,  swept  for  days  together 
by  the  searing  south  winds.  In  all  the  prairie  there  was 
no  spot  of  vivid  green,  no  oasis  in  the  desert  of  tawny 
grasses  and  stunted  brown  cornstalks,  and  bare,  hot  stubble 
wherefrom  even  the  poor  crop  of  straw  had  been  chaffless 
and  mean. 

On  a  Sabbath  morning  in  late  July,  the  little  Grass 
River  schoolhouse  was  crowded,  for  Sabbath  school  was  the 
event  of  the  week.  It  did  not  take  a  multitude  to  crowd 
the  sod-built  temple  of  learning.  Even  with  the  infant 
class  out  of  doors  in  the  shade,  the  class  inside  filled  the 
space.  The  minister  school-teacher,  Pryor  Gaines,  called 
it  the  "old  folks'  class,"  although  there  was  not  a  person 
over  thirty-five  years  of  age  in  the  whole  settlement. 

Asher  Aydelot  was  the  superintendent,  and  Virginia  took 
care  of  the  infant  class.  Jim  Shirley  led  the  singing,  and 
Pryor  Gaines  taught  the  "old  folks."  He  was  the  same 
minister  school-teacher  who  had  sat  at  the  table  with  Dr. 
Carey  and  Todd  Stewart  and  John  Jacobs  on  the  day  that 


88  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Thomas  Smith  ate  his  first  meal  at  the  Jacobs  House.  With 
the  passing  of  Carey's  Crossing,  he  had  taken  a  homestead 
claim  on  Grass  River. 

This  morning  the  lesson  was  short,  and  the  children, 
finding  the  heat  of  the  shade  outside  unbearable,  were  sit 
ting  on  the  earth  floor  beside  their  parents.  Nobody 
seemed  ready  to  go  home. 

"  Times  are  getting  worse  every  day,"  one  man  observed. 
"No  rain  since  the  tenth  of  May,  and  the  prettiest  stand 
of  wheat  I  ever  saw,  burned  to  a  half-yield  or  less  before 
cutting  time.  I'd  counted  on  wheat  for  my  living  this 
year." 

"  It's  the  same  if  you'd  had  corn,  Bennington,"  Jim 
Shirley  observed.  "  I  was  polishing  my  crown  for  a  Corn 
King  Festival  this  fall.  I  don't  believe  I'll  harvest  fifteen 
bushels  to  the  acre." 

"Fifteen  bushels!"  another  neighbor  exclaimed.  "Fif 
teen  ears  to  the  row  a  section  long  would  encourage  me. 
Darley  Champers  told  me  when  I  took  up  my  claim,  if 
I'd  plant  a  grove  or  two,  that  in  three  years  the  trees 
would  be  so  big  that  rainfall  would  be  abundant.  You  all 
know  my  catalpa  woods  is  a  wonder,"  he  added  with  a  wink. 

Darley  Champers  himself  had  just  come  down  the  trail 
and  was  entering  the  door. 

"Well,  come  over  our  way  if  you  are  on  the  hunt  for 
prosperity,"  Todd  Stewart  interposed.  "  Grass  River  isn't 
living  up  to  its  name  any  better  than  our  creek;  isn't 
any  fuller  of  weeds  than  our  brook  is  of  —  shale.  I  did 
lose  the  trail  in  your  river  this  morning,  though.  The 
weeds  are  nearly  up  to  the  pony's  flanks.  Think  of  the 
fertility  of  a  river  bed  that  will  grow  weeds  three  feet 

I 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     89 

high  and  two  shades  more  yellow  green  than  the  dead  grass 
on  the  bank.  If  there's  a  drop  of  water  in  our  creek  for 
twenty  miles,  I'd  go  get  it  and  have  Brother  Gaines  analyze 
it  to  make  sure  it  wasn't  resin." 

"  You  do  well  to  see  the  humor  of  the  situation,  Stewart," 
Pryor  Gaines  began,  with  the  cheery  tone  of  a  man  who 
believes  in  hope. 

"  I  don't  see  that  that  helps  any,"  Bennington,  the  first 
speaker,  broke  in  dolefully.  "Joking  isn't  going  to  give 
us  food  and  clothes  and  fuel  till  crop  time  comes  again  —  if 
it  ever  does." 

"I'm  not  suffering  for  extra  clothes.  What  I  wear 
now  is  a  burden,"  Todd  Stewart  declared. 

"Well,  gentlemen."  Darley  Champers  took  the  floor. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do?  That's  what  brought  me 
here  today.  I  knowed  I'd  find  you  all  here.  When  I  sent 
some  of  you  fellows  into  this  blasted  Sahara,  I  was  honest. 
I  thought  Grass  River  wras  a  real  stream,  not  a  weed  patch 
and  a  stone  out-crop.  I'd  seen  water  in  it,  as  I  can  prove 
by  Aydelot.  Remember,  when  we  met  down  by  the  bend 
here,  one  winter  day?" 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  Asher  replied. 

"Well,  I  just  come  by  there  and  there  ain't  a  drop  of 
water  in  that  deep  bend,  no  more'n  in  my  hat."  Champers 
plumped  his  hat  down  on  the  floor  with  the  words.  "  And 
the  creek,  on  Stewart's  testimony,  is  a  blasted  fissure  in  the 
earth." 

"I  always  said  when  that  bend  went  dry,  I'd  leave  the 
country,  but  I  can't,"  Jim  Shirley  said  doggedly. 

"Why  not?"  Champers  inquired. 

"  Because  I  can't  throw  away  the  only  property  I  have  in 


90  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  world,  and  I  haven't  the  means  to  get  away,  let  alone 
start  up  anywhere  else." 

"  We're  all  in  the  same  boat,"  Bennington  declared. 

"  Same  boat,  every  fellow  rocking  it,  too,  and  no  water 
to  drown  in  if  we  fall  out.  We're  in  the  queerest  streak 
of  luck  yet  developed,"  Todd  Stewart  observed. 

"Let's  take  a  vote,  then,  and  see  how  many  of  us  really 
have  no  visible  means  of  support  and  couldn't  walk  out  of 
here  at  all.  Let's  have  a  show  of  hands,"  Jim  Shirley 
proposed. 

"  How  did  you  decide  ? "  Champers  asked,  as  the  hands 
dropped. 

His  eyes  were  on  Asher  Aydelot,  who  had  not  voted. 

"Didn't  you  see?  Everybody,  except  Asher  there,  is 
nailed  fast  to  the  gumbo,"  Stewart  declared. 

Darley  Champers  looked  Asher  Aydelot  straight  in  the 
eyes,  and  nobody  could  have  said  that  pity  or  dislike  or 
surprise  controlled  the  man's  mind,  for  something  of  all 
three  were  in  that  look.  Then  he  said: 

"  Gentlemen,  I  know  your  condition  just  as  well  as  you 
do.  You're  in  a  losing  game,  and  it's  stay  and  starve,  or  — 
but  they  ain't  no  *  or.'  Now,  I'll  advance  money  tomorrow 
on  every  claim  held  here  and  take  it  and  assume  the  mort 
gage.  Not  that  they  are  worth  it.  Oh,  Lord,  no.  I'll  be 
land-logged,  and  it's  out  of  kindness  to  you  that  I'm  willin' 
to  stretch  them  fellers  I  represent  in  the  East.  But  I'll 
take  chances.  I'll  help  each  feller  of  you  to  get  away  for 
a  reasonable  price  on  your  claim.  It's  a  humanitarian 
move,  but  I  may  be  able  to  lump  it  off  for  range  land  in 
a  few  years  for  about  what  it  costs  to  pay  taxes.  But, 
gents,  I  got  some  of  you  in  and  I'm  no  scallawag  when  it 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     91 

comes  to  helpin'  you  out.  Think  it  over,  and  I'll  be  down 
this  way  in  two  weeks.  I've  got  to  go  now.  It's  too 
infernal  hot  to  keep  alive  here.  I  know  where  there's  two 
sunflower  stalks  up  on  the  trail  that's  fully  two  feet  tall. 
I've  got  to  have  shade.  Goodday."  And  Champers  was 
gone. 

"What  do  you  say?"  The  question  seemed  to  come 
from  all  at  once. 

"Let  Pryor  Gaines  speak  first.  He's  our  preacher," 
Asher  said  with  a  smile. 

Pryor  Gaines  was  a  small,  fair-faced  man,  a  scholar,  a 
dreamer,  too,  maybe.  By  birth  or  accident,  he  had  suffered 
from  a  deformity.  He  limped  when  he  walked,  and  his 
left  hand  had  less  than  normal  efficiency.  On  his  face  the 
pathos  of  the  large  will  and  the  limited  power  was  written 
over  by  the  ready  smile,  the  mark  of  abundant  good  will 
toward  men. 

"I  am  out  of  the  race,"  he  said  calmly.  "I'm  as  poor 
as  any  of  you,  of  course,  and  I  must  stay  here  anyhow, 
Dr.  Carey  tells  me.  I  came  West  on  account  of  heart  action 
and  some  pulmonary  necessities.  I  cannot  choose  where  I 
shall  go,  even  if  I  had  the  means  to  carry  out  my  choice. 
But  my  necessities  need  not  influence  anyone,"  he  added 
with  a  smile.  "I  can  live  without  you,  if  I  have  to." 

"How  about  you?"  Stewart  said,  turning  to  Asher. 
"You  take  no  risk  at  all  in  leaving,  so  you'll  go  first,  I 
suppose?  " 

All  this  time  the  settlers'  wives  sat  listening  to  the  con 
siderations  that  meant  so  much  to  them.  They  wore  calico 
dresses,  and  not  one  of  them  had  on  a  hat.  But  their  sun- 
bonnets  were  clean  and  stiffly  starched,  and,  while  they  were 


92  Winning  the  Wilderness 

humbly  clad,  there  was  not  a  stupid  face  among  them; 
neither  was  their  conversation  stupid.  Their  homes  and 
home  devices  for  improvement,  the  last  reading  in  the 
all  too  few  papers  that  came  their  way,  the  memories  of 
books  and  lectures  and  college  life  of  other  days,  and  the 
hope  of  the  future,  were  among  the  things  of  which  they 
spoke. 

Virginia  Aydelot  was  no  longer  the  pretty  pink  and 
white  girl-bride  who  had  come  to  the  West  three  years 
before.  Her  face  and  arms  were  brown  as  a  gypsy's,  but 
her  hair,  rumpled  by  the  white  sunbonnet  she  had  worn, 
was  abundant,  and  her  dark  eyes  and  the  outlines  of  her 
face  had  not  changed.  She  would  always  be  handsome 
without  regard  to  age  or  locality.  Nor  had  the  harshness 
of  the  wilderness  made  harsh  the  soft  Southern  tongue  that 
was  her  heritage. 

At  Stewart's  words,  Asher  glanced  at  his  wife,  and  he 
knew  from  her  eyes  what  her  choice  would  be. 

"  When  I  was  a  boy  on  the  old  farm  back  at  Cloverdale, 
Ohio,  my  mother's  advice  was  as  useful  to  me  as  my 
father's."  Swift  through  Asher's  mind  ran  the  memory  of 
that  moonlit  April  night  on  his  father's  veranda  five 
years  before.  "  Out  here  it  is  our  wives  who  bear  the 
heaviest  burdens.  Let  us  have  their  thoughts  on  the 
situation." 

"  That's  right,"  Jim  Shirley  exclaimed.  "  Mrs.  Aydelot, 
you  are  first  in  point  of  time  in  this  settlement.  What  do 
you  say?" 

"It's  a  big  responsibility,  Mrs.  Aydelot,"  Bennington, 
who  had  not  smiled  hitherto,  said  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"As  goes  Asher  Aydelot,  so  goes  Grass  River,"  Todd 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     93 

Stewart  declared.  "  You  speak  for  him,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  and 
tell  us  what  to  do." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  what  to  do.  I  can  speak  only  for 
the  Aydelots,"  Virginia  said.  "  When  we  came  West  Asher 
told  me  he  had  left  one  bridge  not  burned.  He  had  put 
aside  enough  money  to  take  us  back  to  Ohio  and  to  start  a 
new  life,  on  small  dimensions,  of  course,  back  East,  when 
ever  we  found  the  prairies  too  hostile.  They've  often  been 
rough,  never  worse  than  now,  but "  —  her  eyes  were  bright 
with  the  unconquerable  will  to  do  as  she  pleased,  true 
heritage  of  the  Thames  of  old  —  "but  I'm  not  ready  to 
go  yet." 

Jim  Shirley  clapped  his  hands,  but  Pryor  Gaines  spoke 
earnestly.  "  There  is  no  failure  in  a  land  where  the  women 
will  to  win.  By  them  the  hearthstones  stand  or  crumble 
to  dust.  The  Plains  are  master  now.  They  must  be  serv 
ant  some  day." 

"Amen!"  responded  Asher  Aydelot,  and  the  Sabbath 
service  ended. 

Two  weeks  later  Darley  Champers  came  again  to  the 
barren  valley  and  met  the  settlers  in  the  sod  schoolhouse. 
Not  a  cloud  had  yet  scarred  the  heavens,  not  a  dewdrop  had 
glistened  in  the  morning  sunlight.  Clearly,  August  was 
outranking  July  as  king  of  a  season  of  glaring  light  and 
withering  heat.  The  settlers  drooped  listlessly  on  the  back 
less  seats,  and  the  barefoot  children  did  not  even  try  to 
recite  the  golden  text. 

"I'd  like  to  speak  to  you,  Aydelot,"  Champers  said  at 
the  door,  as  the  school  service  ended. 

The  two  men  sought  the  shady  side  of  the  cabin  and 
dropped  on  the  ground. 


94  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  I'm  goin'  to  be  plain,  now,  and  you  must  n't  misunder 
stand  me  for  a  minute,"  Champers  declared.  The  blusterer 
is  rarely  tactful. 

"All  right." 

Champers  seemed  to  take  the  cheery  tone  as  a  personal 
matter. 

"Two  weeks  ago,  I  understand  you  and  Mrs.  Aydelot 
headed  off  these  poor  devils  from  their  one  chance  of 
escape.  Now,  you  know  danged  well  you  don't  intend  to 
stay  here  a  minute  longer'n  it'll  take  to  kite  out  of  this  in 
the  fall.  And  you  are  sacrificing  human  lives  by  per- 
suadin'  these  folks  to  hold  onto  this  land  they  just  can't 
keep,  nor  make  a  livin'  on,  under  five  years  and  pay  the 
interest  till  their  mortgages  expire.  And  I've  just  this  to 
say:"  Champers  spoke  persuasively.  "I'm  not  a  shark. 
I'm  humane.  If  you'll  help  me  to  get  these  poor  settlers 
out  of  Grass  River  Valley,  I'm  willing  to  pay  you  a  good 
commission  on  every  single  claim  and  take  no  commission 
at  all  on  yours.  It  will  help  you  a  lot  toward  makin'  a 
bigger  start  back  East.  Don't  listen  to  your  woman  now ; 
listen  to  me,  for  I'm  givin'  you  the  chance  of  your  life, 
robbin'  myself  to  do  it,  too.  But"  —  his  tone  changed 
abruptly  —  "if  you  figger  you  can  take  your  danged 
rainy-day  bank  account  out'n  the  Cloverdale  bank  and  grab 
onto  this  land,  you  leave  yourself,  and  hold  onto  it  while 
you  stay  East  a  few  years,  and  then  sneak  back  here  and 
get  rich  off  their  loss,  I  tell  you  now,  you  can't  do  it.  And 
if  you  don't  use  your  influence  right  now  to  get  'em  to  sell 
out  to  my  company,  you're  going  to  regret  it.  Don't  ask 
how  I  know.  I  know.  I  warn  you  once  for  all.  You  go 
in  there  and  help  the  men  decide  right  now  —  I'll  buy  at  a 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     95 

reasonable  figger,  you  understand  —  and  you're  goin'  to 
help  make  'em  sell  to  save  their  fool  skins  from  starvation 
and  their  wives  and  their  little  ones,  or  you're  going  to  rue 
the  day  you  drove  into  Kansas.  What  do  you  say?  What 
are  you  goin'  to  do?" 

The  man's  voice  was  full  of  menace,  and  he  looked  at 
Asher  Aydelot  with  the  determination  of  one  who  will  not 
be  thwarted. 

Asher  looked  back  at  him  with  clear  gray  eyes  that  saw 
deeper  than  the  threatening  words.  A  half  smile  hovered 
about  his  lips  as  he  replied. 

"  So  that's  your  game,  Darley  Champers.  If  I'll  help 
you  to  get  hold  of  this  land,  you'll  pay  the  settlers  more 
than  the  claims  are  worth  and  you'll  pay  me  more  than 
they  are  worth.  A  pretty  good  price  for  worthless 
ground." 

"  Well,  look  at  the  landscape  and  tell  me  what  you  see." 
Darley  Champers  flung  his  hand  out  toward  the  sweep  of 
brown  prairie  with  the  dry  river  bed  and  the  brazen  sands 
beyond  it.  Lean  cattle  stood  disconsolately  in  the  shade- 
less  open,  while  the  cultivated  fields  were  a  mass  of  yellow 
clods  about  the  starveling  crops. 

Asher  did  not  heed  the  interruption. 

"You  declare  that  I'll  leave  here  as  soon  as  I  can  get 
away,  and  that  I'm  brutal  to  use  my  influence  to  keep  the 
settlers  here;  that  I  am  working  a  trick  you  have  worked 
out  already  for  me,  to  get  the  land  myself  because  it  is 
valuable;  you,  in  your  humane  love  for  your  fellowmen, 
you  threaten  me  with  all  unknown  calamities  if  I  refuse 
your  demand.  And  then  you  ask  me  what  I  have  to  say, 
what  I  am  going  to  do,  and,  with  fine  gestures,  what  I  see?  " 


96  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Well?"  Champers  queried  urgently. 

The  plains  life  made  men  patient  and  deliberate  of 
speech,  and  Asher  did  not  hasten  his  words  for  all  the 
bluster. 

"I  say  I  am  not  using  my  influence  to  keep  any  man 
here  or  push  him  out  of  here.  I  speak  only  for  the  family 
at  the  Sunflower  Inn.  I  know  'danged  well'  I  am  not 
going  to  leave  the  Grass  River  country  this  fall.  Further, 
I  know  your  hand  before  you  play  it,  and  I  know  that  if 
you  can  play  it  against  Todd  Stewart  and  Jim  Shirley  and 
Cyrus  Bennington  and  the  rest  of  them,  I  haven't  taken 
their  measure  right.  I  know,  again,  that  I  am  not  afraid 
of  you,  nor  can  any  threat  you  make  h^ve  an  influence  on 
my  action.  And,  lastly,  as  to  what  I  see." 

Asher  turned  toward  the  west  where  the  hot  air  quivered 
between  the  iron  earth  and  a  sky  of  brass. 

"I  see  a  land  fair  as  the  garden  of  Eden,  with  grazing 
herds  on  broad  meadows,  and  fields  on  fields  of  wheat,  and 
groves  and  little  lakes  and  rivers,  a  land  of  comfortable 
homes  and  schools  and  churches  —  and  no  saloons  nor 
breweries." 

"  I  see  a  danged  fool,"  Darley  Champers  cried,  spring 
ing  up. 

"  Come  down  here  in  twenty-five  years  and  make  a  hunt 
for  me,  then,"  Asher  said  with  a  smile,  but  Champers  had 
already  plunged  inside  the  schoolhouse. 

The  council  following  was  a  brief  one.  Three  or  four 
Grass  River  settlers  agreed  to  give  up  the  equity  on  their 
claims  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  for  enough  money  to 
transport  themselves  and  their  families  to  their  former 
homes  east  of  the  Mississippi  River.  This  decision  left 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     97 

only  one  child  of  all  the  little  ones  there,  Todd  Stewart, 
a  stubby  little  fellow,  as  much  of  a  Scotchman  as  his  fair- 
haired  father,  who  wound  one  arm  about  his  father's  neck, 
and  whispered: 

"They  can't  budge  us,  can  they,  dad?" 

When  the  matter  was  concluded,  Darley  Champers  rose 
to  his  feet. 

"  I  want  to  say  one  thing,"  he  began  doggedly.  "  I  give 
you  the  chance.  Don't  never  blame  me  because  you  are 
too  green  to  know  what's  good  for  you.  You  are  the  only 
green  things  here,  though.  And  don't  forget,  there  ain't 
a  man  of  you  can  get  out  of  here  on  your  own  income  or  on 
your  own  savin's.  Not  a  one.  You're  all  locked  into  this 
valley  an'  the  key's  in  purgatory.  An'  I'd  see  you  all  with 
the  key  before  I'd  ever  lift  a  finger  to  help  one  of  you, 
and  not  a  one  of  you  can  help  yourselves." 

With  these  words  Champers  left  the  company  and  rode 
away  up  the  trail  toward  civilization  and  safety. 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  Pryor  Gaines  said: 

"  Friends,  let  us  not  forget  that  this  is  the  Sabbath  day 
on  the  prairie  as  in  the  crowded  city.  Let  us  not  leave 
until  we  ask  for  His  blessing  in  whose  sight  no  sparrow 
falls  unnoticed." 

And  together  the  little  band  of  resolute  men  and  women 
offered  prayer  to  Him  whose  is  the  earth  and  the  fulness, 
or  the  emptiness,  thereof. 

Four  days  and  nights  went  by.  On  the  fifth  morning  at 
daybreak  the  cool  breeze  that  sweeps  the  prairies  in  the 
early  dawn  flowed  caressingly  along  the  Grass  River  valley. 
The  settlers  rose  early.  This  was  the  best  part  of  the 
day,  and  they  made  use  of  it. 


98  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  You  poor  Juno ! "  Virginia  Aydelot  said,  as  she  leaned 
against  the  corral  post  in  the  morning  twilight,  and  patted 
the  mare  gently. 

"You  and  I  are  'plains-broke'  for  certain.  We  don't 
care  for  hot  winds,  nor  cold  winds,  nor  prairie  fire,  nor 
even  a  hailstorm,  if  it  would  only  come.  Never  mind,  old 
Juno,  Asher  has  the  greenest  fields  of  all  the  valley  because 
he  hasn't  stopped  plowing.  That's  why  you  must  keep  on 
working.  Maybe  it  will  rain  today,  and  you'll  get  to  rest. 
Rain  and  rest ! " 

She  looked  toward  the  shadowy  purple  west,  and  then 
away  to  the  east,  decked  in  the  barbaric  magnificence  of 
a  plains  sunrise. 

"It  may  rain  today,  but  it  won't  rain  rain.  It  will  be 
hot  air  and  trouble.  The  sod  shack  is  cool,  anyhow,  Juno. 
Not  so  cool,  though,  as  that  little  glen  in  the  mountains 
where  the  clear  spring  bubbles  and  babbles  all  day  long." 
She  brushed  her  hair  back  from  her  forehead  and,  squeezing 
Juno's  mane,  she  added,  "We  don't  want  to  go  back  yet, 
though.  Not  yet,  do  we,  Juno,  even  if  it  rains  trouble 
instead  of  rain?  Inherited  pride  and  the  will  to  do  as  we 
please  make  us  defy  the  plains,  still." 

The  day  was  exceedingly  hot,  but  by  noon  a  cloud 
seemed  rising  in  the  northwest1;  not  a  glorious,  black  thun 
der-cloud  that  means  cool  wind  and  sharp  lightning  and 
a  shower  of  longed-for  rain.  A  yellow-gray  cloud  with 
no  deeper  nor  shallower  tints  to  it,  rising  steadily,  moving 
swiftly,  shut  off  the  noonday  glare.  The  shadows  deep 
ened  below  this  strange  un-cloud-like  cloud,  not  dark,  but 
dense.  The  few  chickens  in  the  settlement  mistook  the 
clock  and  went  to  roost.  At  every  settler's  house,  wonder- 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden     99 

ing  eyes  watched  the  unheard-of  phenomenon,  so  like,  yet 
utterly  unlike,  the  sun's  eclipse. 

"  Listen,  Asher,"  Virginia  exclaimed,  as  the  two  stood  on 
the  low  swell  behind  the  house.  "Listen  to  the  roar,  but 
there's  no  wind  nor  thunder." 

"  Hear  that  rasping  edge  to  the  rumble.  It  isn't  like 
anything  I  ever  knew,"  Asher  said,  watching  the  coming 
cloud  intently. 

From  their  height  they  could  see  it  sweeping  far  across 
the  land,  not  high  in  the  air,  but  beclouding  the  prairie  like 
a  fog.  Only  this  thing  was  dry  and  carried  no  cool  breath 
with  it.  Nearer  it  came,  and  the  sun  above  looked  wanly 
through  it,  as  surging,  whipping,  shimmering  with  silver 
splinters  of  light,  roaring  with  the  whir  of  grating  wings, 
countless  millions  of  grasshoppers  filled  the  earth  below  and 
the  air  above. 

"The  plague  of  Egypt,"  Asher  cried,  and  he  and  Vir 
ginia  retreated  hastily  before  its  force. 

But  they  were  not  swift  enough.  The  mosquito  netting 
across  the.  open  windows  was  eaten  through  and  the  hop 
ping,  wriggling,  flying  pest  surged  inside.  They  smeared 
greasily  on  the  floor;  they  gnawed  ravenously  at  every 
bit  of  linen  or  cotton  fabric;  they  fell  into  every  open 
vessel. 

Truly,  life  may  be  made  miserable  in  many  ways,  but  in 
the  Kansas  homes  in  that  memorable  grasshopper  year  of 
1874  life  was  wretchedly  uncomfortable.  Out  of  doors  the 
cloud  was  a  disaster.  Nor  flood,  nor  raging  wind  nor 
prairie  fire,  nor  unbroken  drouth  could  claim  greater  meas 
ure  of  havoc  in  its  wake  than  this  billion-footed,  billion- 
winged  creature,  an  appetite  grown  measureless,  a  hunger 


100  Winning  the  Wilderness 

vitalized,  and  individualized,  and  endowed  with  power  of 
motion.  No  living  shred  of  grass,  or  weed,  or  stalk  of  corn, 
or  straw  of  stubble  or  tiniest  garden  growth;  no  leaf  or 
bit  of  tender  bark  of  tree,  or  shrub,  escaped  this  many- 
mouthed  monster. 

In  the  little  peach  orchard  where  there  were  a  few  half- 
ripe  peaches,  the  very  first  fruits  of  the  orchards  in  this 
untamed  land,  the  hard  peach  stones,  from  which  the  meat 
was  eaten  away,  hung  on  their  stems  among  the  leafless 
branches.  The  weed-grown  bed  of  Grass  River  was  swept 
as  by  a  prairie  fire.  And  for  the  labor  of  the  fields,  nothing 
remained.  The  cottonwood  trees  and  wild  plum  bushes 
belonged  to  a  mid-winter  landscape,  and  of  the  many  young 
catalpa  groves,  only  stubby  sticks  stood  up,  making  a 
darker  spot  on  the  face  of  the  bare  plains. 

For  three  days  the  Saint  Bartholomew  of  vegetation  con 
tinued.  Then  the  pest,  still  hungry,  rose  and  passed  to 
the  southeast,  leaving  behind  it  only  a  honey-combed  soil 
where  eggs  were  deposited  for  future  hatching,  and  a 
famine-breeding  desolation. 

In  days  of  great  calamity  or  sorrow,  sometimes  little 
things  annoy  strangely,  and  it  is  not  until  after  the  grief 
has  passed  that  the  memory  recalls  and  the  mind  wonders 
why  trifles  should  have  had  such  power  amid  such  vastly 
important  things.  While  the  grasshopper  was  a  burden, 
one  loss  wore  heavily  on  Virginia  Aydelot's  mind.  She  had 
given  up  hope  for  vines  and  daintier  flowers  in  the  early 
summer,  but  one  clump  of  coarse  sunflowers  she  had  tended 
and  watered  and  loved. 

"  It  is  our  flower,"  she  said  to  Asher,  who  laughed  at  her 
care.  "  I  won't  give  them  up.  I  can  get  along  without  the 


When  the  Grasshopper  Was  a  Burden    101 

other  blooms  this  year,  but  my  sunflowers  are  my  treasure 
here  —  the  only  gold  till  the  wheat  turns  yellow  for  us." 

"  You  are  a  sentimental  sister,"  Asher  declared.  But  he 
patiently  carried  water  from  the  dwindling  well  supply  to 
keep  the  drouth  from  searing  them.  When  they  fell 
before  the  ravenous  grasshoppers,  foolish  as  it  was,  Vir 
ginia  mourned  their  loss  above  the  loss  of  crops  —  so 
scanty  were  the  joys  of  these  women  state  builders. 

The  day  after  the  pests  left  was  the  Sabbath.  When 
Asher  Aydelot  read  the  morning  lesson  in  the  Sunday 
school,  his  voice  was  deep  and  unfaltering.  He  had  chosen 
the  eighth  chapter  of  Deuteronomy,  with  its  sublime  prom 
ises  to  a  wilderness-locked  people. 

Then  Pryor  Gaines  offered  prayer. 

"Although  the  figtree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall 
fruit  be  in  the  vines"  —  the  old,  old  chant  of  Habakkuk 
on  Mount  Shigionoth  —  "the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail, 
and  the  fields  shall  yield  no  meat;  the  flock  shall  be  cut 
off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls: 
yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy  in  the  God  of  my 
salvation.  The  Lord  God  is  my  strength,  and  He  will  make 
my  feet  like  hind's  feet,  and  He  will  make  me  to  walk  upon 
mine  high  places." 

So  the  scholarly  man,  crippled  and  held  to  the  land, 
prayed;  and  comfort  came  with  his  words. 

Then  Jim  Shirley  stood  up  to  sing. 

"  I'm  no  preacher,"  he  said,  holding  the  song  book  open 
a  moment,  "  but  I  do  believe  the  Lord  loves  the  fellow  who 
can  laugh  at  his  own  hard  luck.  We  weren't  so  green  as 
Darley  Champers  tried  to  have  us  believe,  because  the  hop 
pers  didn't  bite  at  us  when  they  took  every  other  green 


102  Winning  the  Wilderness 

and  growing  thing,  and  we  have  life  enough  in  us  to  keep 
on  growing.  Furthermore,  we  aren't  the  only  people  that 
have  been  pest-ridden.  It's  even  worse  up  on  Big  Wolf 
Creek,  where  Wyker's  short  on  corn  to  feed  his  brewery 
this  fall.  I'm  going  to  ask  everyone  who  is  still  glad  he's 
in  the  Grass  River  settlement  in  Kansas  to  stand  up  and 
sing  just  like  he  meant  it.  It's  the  old  Portuguese  hymn. 
Asher  and  I  learned  it  back  on  Clover  Creek  in  Ohio. 

How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord, 
Is  laid  for  your  faith— in  His  excellent  word !" 

Every  man  and  woman  rose  at  once. 

"The  'ayes'  have  it,"  Jim  declared. 

Then  strong  and  sweet  the  song  floated  out  across  the 
desolate  drouth-ridden,  pest-despoiled  prairie.  The  same 
song  was  sung  that  day,  no  doubt,  where  many  worshipers 
were  met  together.  The  same  song,  sung  in  country  chapel 
and  city  church;  in  mining  villages,  and  in  lonely  lumber 
camps;  on  vessels  far  out  at  sea,  and  in  the  missionary 
service  of  distant  heathen  lands;  by  sick  beds  in  humble 
homes,  and  beneath  the  groined  arches  of  the  Old  World 
cathedrals. 

But  nowhere  above  the  good  green  sod  of  Christendom 
did  it  rise  in  braver,  truer  worship  from  trustful  and  uncon- 
quered  hearts  than  it  rose  that  day  in  the  little  sod  school- 
house  on  the  Kansas  prairie,  pouring  its  melody  down  the 
wide  spaces  of  the  Grass  River  Valley. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  LAST  BRIDGE  BURNED 

.     .     .     Scores  of  better  men  had  died. 

I  could  reach  the  township  living,  but— He  knew  what  terrors 

tore  me— 

But  I  didn't !    But  I  didn't !    I  went  down  the  other  side. 

—  The  Explorer. 

PRYOR  GAINES  never  preached  a  better  sermon  than 
the  one  that  followed  the  singing  of  that  old  Portu 
guese  hymn ;  and  there  were  no  doleful  faces  in  that  little 
company  when  the  service  closed.  The  men  stopped  long 
enough  to  discuss  the  best  crops  to  put  in  for  the  fall, 
and  how  and  where  they  might  get  seeds  for  the  same ;  to 
consider  ways  for  destroying  the  eggs  left  by  the  grass 
hoppers  in  the  honey-combed  ground,  and  to  trade  help  in 
the  wheat-breaking  to  begin  the  next  day.  The  women  lin 
gered  to  plan  a  picnic  dinner  for  the  coming  Saturday. 
Jim  Shirley  hummed  an  old  love  tune  as  he  helped  Pryor 
Gaines  to  close  the  windows  and  door  for  the  week.  Only 
little  Todd  Stewart,  with  sober  face,  scratched  thoughtfully 
at  the  hard  earth  with  his  hard  little  toes. 

"Can't  there  be  no  more  little  children  where  there's 
grasshoppers  and  Darley  Champerses?"  he  asked  his 
mother. 

"Yes,  yes,  Todd.  You  won't  be  lonesome  long,"  his 
mother  assured  him.  "  Some  time  when  you  are  a  man  you 
can  say,  'I  was  the  only  little  boy  the  grasshoppers  and 
Darley  Champers  didn't  get.'  You  stout  little  Trojan!" 

And  then  Todd,  too,  caught  the  spirit  of  the  day  and 

103 


104  Winning  the  Wilderness 

went  singing  blithely  away.  Across  the  bare  hollow  of 
Grass  River,  and  beyond  the  sand  dunes  into  the  brown 
wastes  that  had  been  grassy  prairies,  his  young  voice  came 
trailing  back  still  singing,  as  he  rode  behind  his  father,  fol 
lowing  the  long  hot  trail  toward  their  home.  And  the 
other  settlers  went  their  ways,  each  with  courage  renewed, 
for  the  new  week's  work. 

Yet,  they  were  lonesomely  few  in  number,  and  the 
prairies  were  vast;  they  were  poverty-stricken,  with  little 
means  by  which  to  sustain  life  through  the  coming  season ; 
on  every  hand  the  desolate  plains  lay  robbed  of  every 
green  growth,  and  to  this  land  they  were  nailed  hand  and 
foot  as  to  a  cross  of  crucifixion.  But  they  were  young. 
They  believed  in  the  West  and  in  themselves.  Their  faces 
were  set  toward  the  future.  They  had  voted  themselves 
into  holding  on,  and,  except  for  the  Aydelots,  no  one  fam 
ily  had  more  resource  than  another.  The  Aydelots  could 
leave  the  West  if  they  chose.  But  they  did  not  choose.  So 
together  they  laughed  at  hardship ;  they  made  the  most  of 
their  meager  possessions;  they  helped  each  other  as  one 
family  —  and  they  trusted  to  Providence  for  the  future. 
And  Providence,  albeit  she  shows  a  seamy  side  to  poverty, 
still  loves  the  man  who  laughs  at  hard  luck.  The  seasons 
following  were  not  unkind.  The  late  summer  rains,  the 
long  autumn,  and  the  mild  winter  were  blessings.  But 
withal,  there  were  days  on  days  of  real  hunger.  Stock 
died  for  lack  of  encouragement  to  live  without  food.  And 
the  grim  while  of  waiting  for  seed  time  and  signs  of  pros 
perity  was  lived  through  with  that  old  Anglo-Saxon  tenac 
ity  that  has  led  the  English  speaking  peoples  to  fight  and 
colonize  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  105 

"Virginia,"  Asher  said  one  noontime,  as  the  two  sat 
at  their  spare  meal,  "the  folks  are  coming  up  tonight  to 
hold  a  council.  I  saw  Bennington  this  morning  and  he 
had  heard  from  the  men  over  Todd  Stewart's  way.  Dust 
the  piano,  polish  up  the  chandelier,  and  decorate  with  — 
smiles,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the  shadow  on  his  wife's  face. 

"  I'll  have  the  maid  put  the  reception  room  in  order," 
Virginia  replied,  with  an  attempt  at  merriment. 

Then  through  the  long  afternoon  she  fought  to  a  finish 
with  the  yearning  for  the  things  she  missed  daily.  At 
supper  time,  however,  she  was  the  same  cheery  woman  who 
had  laughed  at  loss  and  lack  so  often  that  she  wondered 
sometimes  if  abundance  might  not  really  make  her  sad. 

In  the  evening  the  men  sat  on  the  ground  about  the  door 
of  the  Sunflower  Inn.  Their  wives  had  not  come  with 
them.  One  woman  was  sick  at  home;  little  Todd  Stewart 
was  at  the  beginning  of  a  fever,  and  the  other  women  were 
taking  turns  at  nursing.  Virginia's  turn  had  been  the  night 
before.  She  was  weary  now  and  she  sat  in  the  doorway 
listening  to  the  men,  and  remembering  how  on  just  such 
a  moonlit  September  night  she  and  Asher  had  sat  together 
under  the  Sign  of  the  Sunflower  and  planned  a  future  of 
wealth  and  comfort. 

"The  case  is  desperate,"  Cyrus  Bennington  was  saying. 
"  Sickness  and  starvation  and  the  horses  failing  every  day 
and  the  need  for  all  the  plowing  and  getting  winter  fuel. 
Something  must  be  done." 

Others  agreed,  citing  additional  needs  no  less  pressing. 

"There  are  supplies  and  money  coming  from  the  East 
right  now,"  Jim  Shirley  declared.  "A  hunting  party 
crossed  south  two  days  ago.  I  was  down  on  lower  Plum 


106  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Creek  searching  for  firewood,  and  I  met  them.  They  said 
we  might  get  help  from  Wykerton  if  we  went  up  right 
away." 

"Well,  you  are  Mr.  Swift,  Jim,"  one  of  the  men  ex 
claimed.  "  If  you  knew  it  two  days  ago,  why  in  thunder 
didn't  you  report.  We'd  have  made  a  wooden  horse  gallop 
to  Wykerton  before  night." 

"How'd  I  round  up  the  neighborhood?  I  didn't  get 
home  till  nearly  noon  today.  And,  besides,  they  said  Darley 
Champers  has  the  distributing  of  the  supplies  and  money, 
and  he's  putting  it  where  it  will  do  the  most  good,  not 
giving  to  everybody  alike,  he  says." 

A  sudden  blankness  fell  upon  each  face,  as  each  recalled 
the  last  words  of  Champers  when  he  left  them  on  the  Sab 
bath  day  in  August. 

"  Well,  you  said  a  wooden  horse  could  have  galloped  up 
to  Wykerton."  Jim  Shirley  tried  to  speak  cheerfully.  "  A 
horse  of  iron  might,  too,  but  who's  got  a  critter  in  Grass 
River  Valley  right  now  that  could  make  a  trip  like  that? 
Mine  couldn't.  It  took  me  two  days  and  a  half  to  haul  up 
a  load  of  stuff,  mostly  sunflower  stalks,  that  I  gathered 
down  south." 

"Aydelot's  black  mare  could  do  it  if  anything  could," 
Pryor  Gaines  declared,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully,  yet  he 
was  the  least  able  to  meet  the  hardships  of  that  season. 

"  Yes,  maybe,"  Shirley  commented.  "  She's  a  thorough 
bred,  and  they  finally  win,  you  know.  (But  knowing  what 
you  do,  who  of  you  wants  to  face  Darley  Champers  ?  " 

Again  a  hopeless  despair  filled  the  hearts  of  the  little 
company  Todd  Stewart  clinched  his  hands  together.  The 
husband  of  the  sick  woman  set  his  jaws  like  iron.  Pryor 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  107 

Gaines  turned  his  face  away  and  offered  no  further  word. 
Asher  Aydelot  sat  looking  out  across  the  prairie,  touched 
to  silvery  beauty  by  the  pitying  moonlight,  and  Jim  Shir 
ley  bowed  his  head  and  said  nothing. 

"  I  will  go  to  Wykerton,"  Virginia  Aydelot's  soft  voice 
broke  the  silence.  "  I'll  take  Juno  and  go  tomorrow  morn 
ing.  If  Darley  Champers  refuses  me,  he  would  do  the 
same  to  you." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  will  you  go  ?  Can  you  try  it  ?  Do 
you  think  you  could  do  it  ? "  The  questions  came  from 
the  eager  settlers. 

"We'll  try  it,  Juno  and  I,"  Virginia  replied. 

"Thoroughbreds,  both  of  'em,"  Jim  Shirley  murmured 
under  his  breath,  and  Pryor  Gaines'  face  expressed  the 
things  he  could  not  say. 

"I  believe  that  is  the  best  thing  to  do,"  Asher  Aydelot 
declared. 

Then  the  settlers  said  good  night,  and  sought  their 
homes. 

As  Virginia  Aydelot  rode  away  in  the  early  morning,  the 
cool  breeze  came  surging  to  her  out  of  the  west.  The 
plains  were  more  barren  than  she  had  ever  seen  them  before, 
but  the  sky  above  them  had  lost  nothing  of  its  beauty.  No 
color  had  faded  from  the  eastern  horizon  line,  no  magnifi 
cence  had  slipped  away  from  the  sunset. 

" '  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,' "  Virginia  said 
to  herself.  "Has  He  forgotten  the  earth  which  is  His 
also?" 

She  turned  at  the  little  swell  to  the  northward  to  wave 
good-by  to  Asher,  standing  with  arms  folded  beside  a  cor 
ral  post,  looking  after  her. 


108  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Is  he  thinking  of  Cloverdale  and  the  big  cool  farm 
house  and  the  well-kept  farm,  and  the  many  people  coming 
and  going  along  that  old  National  pike  road?  He  gave  it 
all  up  for  me  —  all  his  inheritance  for  me  and  this." 

She  looked  back  once  more  at  the  long  slope  of  colorless 
land  and  the  solitary  figure  watching  her  in  the  midst 
of  it  all. 

"  I'll  tell  him  tonight  I'm  ready  to  go  back  East.  We 
can  go  to  Ohio,  and  Asher  can  live  where  his  boyhood 
days  were  spent.  My  Virginia  can  never  be  as  it  was  in 
my  childhood,  but  Asher  can  have  some  of  the  pleasures 
of  his  eastern  home."  She  pushed  back  the  sunbonnet  from 
her  face,  and  let  the  west  breeze  sweep  across  it. 

"  I  used  to  wear  a  veil  and  was  somewhat  acquainted  with 
cold  cream,  and  my  hands  were  really  white  and  soft.  They 
are  hard  and  brown  now.  When  I  get  home  I'll  put  it 
straight  to  Asher  about  going  back  to  civilization,  even  if 
there  are  only  a  few  dollars  waiting  to  take  us  there,  and 
nothing  waiting  for  us  to  do." 

With  a  sigh,  half  of  anticipation  and  half  of  regret,  she 
rode  away  toward  the  little  town  of  Wykerton  in  the  Big 
Wolf  Creek  settlement. 

There  were  few  differences  between  the  new  county  seat 
and  Carey's  Crossing,  except  that  there  were  a  few  more 
houses,  and  over  by  the  creek  bank  the  brewery,  by  which 
Hans  Wyker  proposed  to  save  the  West.  There  was, 
however,  one  difference  between  the  vanished  Carey's  Cross 
ing  and  this  place,  the  difference  between  the  community 
whose  business  leaders  have  ideals  of  citizenship,  and  the 
community  wherein  commerce  is  advanced  by  the  degrada 
tion  of  its  citizens.  Wykerton  had  no  Dr.  Carey  nor  John 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  109 

Jacobs  to  control  it.  The  loafers  stared  boldly  at  Vir 
ginia  Aydelot  as  she  rode  up  before  the  livery  stable  and 
slipped  from  her  saddle.  Not  because  a  woman  in  a  calico 
dress  and  sunbonnet,  a  tanned,  brown-handed  woman,  was 
a  novelty  there,  but  because  the  license  of  the  place  was 
one  of  impudence  and  disrespect. 

The  saloon  was  on  one  side  of  the  livery  stable  and  the 
postoffice  was  on  the  other  side.  Darley  Champers'  office 
stood  next  to  the  postoffice,  a  dingy  little  shack  with  much 
show  of  maps  and  real  estate  information.  Behind  the 
office  was  a  large  barren  yard  where  one  little  lilac  bush 
languished  above  the  hard  earth.  The  Wyker  hotel  and 
store  were  across  the  street. 

Virginia  had  been  intrusted  with  small  sums  for  sundry 
purchases  for  the  settlement,  especially  for  the  staple  medi 
cines  and  household  needs  —  camphor  and  turpentine,  qui 
nine  and  certain  cough  syrups  for  the  winter;  castor  oil, 
some  old  and  tried  ointment,  and  brand  of  painkiller ;  thread 
and  needles  and  pins  —  especially  pins  —  and  buttons  for 
everybody's  clothes.  One  settler  had  ridden  back  at  mid 
night  to  ask  for  the  purchase  of  a  pair  of  shoes  for  his 
wife.  It  was  a  precious  commission  that  Virginia  Aydelot 
bore  that  day,  although  to  the  shopper  in  a  Kansas  city 
today,  the  sum  of  money  would  have  seemed  pitifully  small. 

In  the  postoffice,  printed  rulings  and  directions  regard 
ing  the  supplies  were  posted  on  the  wall,  and  Virginia 
read  them  carefully.  Then  with  many  misgivings  and  a 
prayer  for  success,  she  crossed  the  street  to  Darley  Cham 
pers'  place  of  business. 

In  spite  of  her  plain  dress,  Virginia  Aydelot  was  every 
inch  a  lady,  and  Darley  Champers,  dull  as  he  was  in  certain 


110  Winning  the  Wilderness 

lines,  felt  the  difference  her  presence  made  in  the  atmos 
phere  of  his  office  when  she  entered  there. 

"  I  understood,  Mr.  Champers,  that  you  have  charge  here 
of  the  supplies  sent  into  the  state  for  the  relief  of  those 
who  suffered  from  the  grasshoppers,"  she  said,  when  she 
was  seated  in  the  dingy  little  room. 

"Yes,  mom!"  Champers  replied. 

"I  am  Mrs.  Asher  Aydelot,  and  I  represent  the  Grass 
River  settlement.  I  have  come  to  ask  for  a  share  of  this 
relief  fund,  and  as  I  must  start  back  as  soon  as  possible 
after  dinner,  perhaps  we  can  make  all  arrangements 
now." 

She  never  knew  how  near  her  gentle  manner  and  pleas 
ant  voice  came  to  winning  the  day  at  once.  Champers' 
first  impulse  was  to  grant  her  anything  she  asked  for;  his 
second  was  to  refuse  everything ;  his  third,  his  ruling  prin 
ciple  always,  was  to  negotiate  to  his  own  advantage.  He 
dropped  his  eyes  and  began  to  play  for  time. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  can  help  you  at  all,  madam,"  he  said, 
half  sympathetically.  "  The  supplies  and  money  is  about 
gone,  except  what's  promised,  and,  well  —  you  ought  to 
have  come  sooner.  I'd  a  been  glad  to  help  you,  but  I 
thought  you  Grass  River  folks  had  about  everything  you 
needed  for  the  winter." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Champers,"  Virginia  cried,  "you  know  that 
nobody  could  foretell  the  coming  of  the  plague.  We  were 
as  well  off  as  hundreds  of  other  settlers  this  dry  summer 
before  the  grasshoppers  came." 

"  Yes,  yes,  madam,  but  the  supplies  is  gone,  about." 

"And  you  cannot  promise  that  any  more  will  be  coming 
soon?"  The  pathos  of  the  woman's  voice  was  appealing. 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  111 

"If  you  could  only  understand  how  poor  and  how  brave 
those  settlers  are ! " 

"  I  thought  your  man  had  some  little  means  to  get  you 
and  him  away,  if  he'd  use  it  that  way." 

The  sorrow  of  failure  here  and  the  suffering  that  must 
follow  it  made  Virginia  sick  at  heart.  A  homesick  longing 
suddenly  possessed  her ;  a  wish  to  get  away  from  the  coun 
try  and  forget  it  altogether.  And  Champers  was  cunning 
enough  to  understand. 

"You'd  just  like  to  get  away  from  it,  now,  wouldn't 
you  ?  "  he  asked  persuasively. 

"  I  surely  would,  when  I  think  of  the  suffering  there  will 
be,"  Virginia  replied.  "  Our  staying  won't  help  matters 
any." 

"Not  a  bit!  Not  a  bit,"  Champers  asserted.  "It's  too 
bad  you  can't  go." 

Virginia  looked  up  wonderingly. 

"Madam,  I  haven't  no  supplies.  They're  all  gone,  I 
think.  But  if  you'll  come  in  right  after  dinner,  I'll  see  if 
I  can't  do  something.  I'm  a  humane  man." 

"  I'll  be  here  at  one  o'clock,"  she  replied. 

It  was  the  last  hope,  and  anything  was  better  than  utter 
failure  in  her  errand. 

When  she  registered  her  name  at  the  hotel  for  dinner, 
Virginia's  eye  was  caught  by  the  two  names  on  the  page. 
Both  belonged  to  strangers,  but  it  was  the  sharp  contrast  of 
the  writing  that  made  her  read  them.  One  recorded  in  a 
cramped  little  hand  the  name  of  Thomas  Smith,  Wilming 
ton,  Delaware.  The  other  in  big,  even,  backward  slanting 
letters  spelled  out  the  name  of  John  Jacobs,  Cincinnati, 
Ohio. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


The  dining  room  was  crowded  with  men  when  Virginia 
entered.  Whoever  is  hunting  for  evidence  of  good  breed 
ing  and  unselfishness,  must  not  expect  too  much  in  any 
eating-house,  be  it  dining  car  on  the  Empire  Limited  or 
grub  shack  on  the  western  frontier,  if  only  men  are  accus 
tomed  to  feed  there.  The  best  places  were  filled  with  noisy 
talkers  and  eaters,  who  stared  at  her  indifferently,  and  it 
was  not  until  Gretchen  Wyker,  tow-haired,  pimpled,  and 
short-necked  like  her  father,  chose  to  do  so,  that  she  finally 
pointed  out  a  chair  at  a  shabby  side  table  and  waved  her 
empty  tin  waiter  toward  it.  Virginia  was  passing  the  long 
table  of  staring  men  to  reach  this  seat,  when  a  man  rose 
from  the  small  table  at  the  other  side  of  the  room  and 
crossed  hastily  to  her. 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,"  he  said  politely.  "  Will  you  come 
over  to  our  table?  We  are  strangers  to  you,  but  you  will 
get  better  service  here  than  you  might  get  alone.  My 
name  is  Jacobs.  I  saw  you  in  the  store  this  morning,  and 
I  know  nearly  every  man  in  your  settlement. 

It  was  a  small  service,  truly,  but  to  Virginia  it  was  a 
grateful  one  in  that  embarrassing  moment. 

"You  can  take  Dr.  Carey's  place.  He's  away  today, 
locating  a  claim  on  the  upper  fork  of  Grass  River  some 
where.  He  hasn't  been  back  a  month,  but  he's  busy 
as  ever.  Tell  me  about  your  neighborhood,"  Jacobs 
said. 

Virginia  told  the  story  of  the  community  that  differed 
little  from  the  story  of  the  whole  frontier  line  of  Kansas 
settlements  in  the  early  seventies. 

"Do  you  have  hope  of  help  through  Mr.  Champers?" 
Jacobs  asked. 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  113 

"I  don't  know  what  to  hope  for  from  Mr.  Champers. 
He  seems  kind-hearted,"  Virginia  replied. 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  him  a  real  friend.  He  is  pretty 
busy  with  a  man  from  the  East  today,"  Jacobs  answered, 
with  a  face  so  neutral  in  its  expression  that  Virginia  won 
dered  what  his  thought  might  be. 

As  she  rose  to  leave  the  table,  Mr.  Jacobs  said: 

"  I  shall  be  interested  in  knowing  how  you  succeed  this 
afternoon.  I  hope  you  may  not  be  disappointed.  I  hap 
pen  to  know  that  there  are  funds  and  goods  both  on  hand. 
It's  a  matter  of  getting  them  distributed  without  prejudice." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Jacobs,"  Virginia  replied.  "  It 
is  a  desperate  case.  I  feel  as  if  I  should  be  ready  to  leave 
the  West  if  I  do  not  get  relief  for  our  neighborhood 
today." 

Jacobs  looked  at  her  keenly.  "  Can  you  go  ?  "  he  asked. 
"I  wonder  you  have  waited  until  now." 

"  I've  never  wanted  to  go  before.  I  wouldn't  now.  I 
could  stand  it  for  our  household."  The  dark  eyes  flashed 
with  the  old  Thaine  will  to  do  as  she  pleased.  "But  it  is 
my  sympathy  for  other  people,  for  our  sick,  for  discour 
aged  men." 

Jacobs  smiled  kindly  and  bowed  as  she  left  the  room. 

When  she  returned  to  Champers'  office  Mr.  Thomas 
Smith  was  already  there,  his  small  frame  and  narrow, 
close-set  eyes  and  secretive  manner  seeming  out  of  place 
in  the  breezy  atmosphere  of  the  plain,  outspoken  West  of 
the  settlement  days.  In  the  conversation  that  followed  it 
seemed  to  Virginia  that  he  controlled  all  of  the  real  estate 
dealer's  words. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  there  ain't  anything  left  in  the 


114  Winning  the  Wilderness 

way  of  supplies,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  except  what's  reserved  for 
worthy  parties.  I've  looked  over  things  carefully."  Darley 
Champers  broke  the  silence  at  once. 

"Who  draws  the  line  between  the  worthy  and  the  un 
worthy,  Mr.  Champers  ?  "  Virginia  asked.  "  I  am  told  the 
relief  supply  is  not  exhausted." 

"  Oh,  the  distributing  in  my  hands  in  a  way,  but  that 
don't  change  matters,"  Champers  said. 

"  I  read  the  rulings  in  the  postoffice,"  Virginia  began. 

"Yes,  I  had  'em  put  there.  It  saves  a  lot  of  misun- 
derstandin',"  the  guardian  of  supplies  declared.  "But  it 
don't  change  anything  here." 

Virginia  knew  that  her  case  was  lost  and  she  rose  to 

c5 

leave  the  room.  She  had  instinctively  distrusted  Darley 
Champers  from  their  first  meeting.  She  had  disliked  him 
as  an  ill-bred,  blustering  sort  of  man,  but  she  had  not 
thought  him  vindictive  until  now.  Now  she  saw  in  him  a 
stubborn,  unforgiving  man,  small  enough  to  work  out  of 
petty  spite  to  the  complete  downfall  of  any  who  dared 
oppose  his  plans. 

"  Sit  down,  Mrs.  Aydelot.  As  I  said  this  mornin',  it's  too 
bad  you  can't  go  back  East  now,"  Champers  said  seriously. 

"We  can."     Virginia  could  not  keep  back  the  words. 

Champers  and  Smith  exchanged  glances. 

"  No,  mom,  you  can't,  Mrs.  Aydelot.  Let  me  show  you 
why." 

He  opened  the  drawer  of  his  rickety  desk  and  out  of  a 
mass  of  papers  he  fished  up  a  copy  of  the  Cincinnati 
Enquirer,  six  weeks  old.  "Look  at  this,"  and  he  thrust  it 
into  Virginia's  hand. 

The  head-lines  were  large,  but  the  story  was  brief.     The 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  115 

failure  of  the  Cloverdale  bank,  the  disappearance  of  the 
trusted  cashier,  the  loss  of  deposits  —  a  story  too  common  to 
need  detail.  Virginia  Aydelot  never  knew  until  that  moment 
how  much  that  reserve  fund  had  really  meant  to  her.  She 
had  need  of  the  inherited  pride  of  the  Thames  now. 

"The  papers  are  not  always  accurate,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  No,  mom.  But  Mr.  Smith  here  has  interests  in  Clover- 
dale.  He's  just  come  from  there,  and  he  says  it's  even 
worse  than  this  states  it." 

Virginia  looked  toward  Mr.  Smith,  who  nodded  assent. 

"  The  failure  is  complete.  Fortunately,  I  lost  but  little," 
he  said. 

"Why  hasn't  Mr.  Aydelot  been  notified?"  she  demanded. 

"  It  does  seem  queer  he  wasn't,"  Thomas  Smith  assented. 

Something  in  his  face  made  Virginia  distrust  him  more 
than  she  distrusted  Darley  Champers. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Aydelot,  seein'  your  last  bridge  is  burned, 
I'm  humane  enough  to  help  you.  You  said  this  mornin' 
you  wanted  to  get  away.  Mr.  Smith  and  I  control  some 
funds  together,  and  he's  willing  to  take  Shirley's  place  and 
I'll  give  you  a  reasonable  figger,  not  quite  so  good  as  I 
could  'a  done  previous  to  this  calamity  —  but  I'll  take  the 
Aydelot  place  off  your  hands."  Champers  smiled 
triumphantly. 

"  The  Aydelot  place  is  not  for  sale.  Good  afternoon." 
And  Virginia  left  the  office  without  more  words. 

When  she  was  gone  Champers  turned  to  Smith  with  a 
growl. 

"  It's  danged  hard  to  turn  agin  a  woman  like  her.  What 
made  you  so  bitter?" 

Smith  half  grinned  and  half  snarled  in  reply : 


116  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Oh,  her  neighbor,  Shirley,  you  know." 

Hopeless  and  crushed,  Virginia  sat  down  on  the  bench 
before  the  Wyker  House  to  wait  for  Juno  to  be  brought  to 
her  from  the  stables.  The  afternoon  sun  was  beginning 
to  creep  under  the  roof  shading  the  doorway.  Before  her 
the  dusty  street  ran  into  the  dusty  trail  leading  out  to  the 
colorless  west.  It  was  the  saddest  moment  she  had  known  in 
the  conflict  with  the  wilderness. 

"  Thy  shoes  shall  be  iron  and  brass,"  ran  the  blessing  of 
Asher  through  her  mind.  "It  must  be  true  today  as  in 
the  desert  long  ago.  And  Asher  lives  by  the  memory  of 
his  mother's  blessing."  The  drooping  shoulders  lifted. 
The  dark  eyes  brightened. 

"I  won't  give  up.  I'm  glad  the  money's  gone,"  she 
declared  to  herself.  "We  did  depend  on  it  so  long  as  we 
knew  we  had  it." 

"  What  luck,  Mrs.  Aydelot  ?  "  It  was  John  Jacobs  who 
spoke  as  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

"All  bad  luck,  but  we  are  not  discouraged,"  she  replied 
bravely,  and  Jacobs  read  the  whole  story  in  the  words. 

A  silence  fell.  Virginia  sat  looking  at  the  vacant  street, 
while  the  young  man  studied  her  face.  Then  Juno  was 
brought  to  the  door  and  Virginia  rose  to  mount  her. 

"Mrs.  Aydelot,"  John  Jacob's  sharp  eyes  seemed  to 
pierce  to  her  very  soul  as  he  said  slowly,  "  I  believe  you  are 
not  discouraged.  You  believe  in  this  country,  you,  and 
your  neighbors.  I  believe  in  it,  and  I  believe  in  you. 
Stewart  and  I  had  to  dissolve  partnership  wjien  Carey's 
Crossing  dissolved.  He  took  a  claim.  It  was  all  he  could 
do.  I  went  back  to  Cincinnati,  but  only  for  a  time.  I'm 
ready  to  start  again.  I  will  organize  a  company  of  town 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  117 

builders,  not  brewery  builders.  You  must  not  look  for 
favors  in  a  whisky-ridden  place  like  this.  There'll  be  no 
saloon  to  rule  our  town." 

Virginia  listened  interestedly  but  not  understandingly. 

"What  of  this?"  Jacobs  continued.  "I  have  some 
means.  I'm  waiting  for  more.  I'll  invest  them  in  Grass 
River.  Go  back  and  tell  your  homesteaders  that  I'll  make 
a  small  five-year  loan  to  every  man  in  the  settlement 
according  to  his  extreme  needs.  I'll  take  each  man's  note 
with  five  per  cent  interest  and  the  privilege  of  renewing  for 
two  years  if  crops  fail  at  the  end  of  the  term.  I  am 
selfish,  I'll  admit,"  he  declared,  as  Virginia  looked  at  him 
incredulously,  "and  I  want  dollar  for  dollar  —  always  — 
sometimes  more.  My  people  are  popularly  known  as 
Shylocks.  But  you  note  that  my  rate  of  usury  is  small, 
the  time  long,  and  that  I  want  these  settlers  to  stay.  I  am 
not  trying  to  get  rid  of  them  in  order  to  speculate  on  their 
land  in  coming  days  of  prosperity  —  the  days  when  you 
will  be  landlords  over  broad  acres  and  I  a  merchant  prince. 
I  say  again,  I  believe  in  the  West  and  in  you  farmer 
people  who  must  turn  the  West  from  a  wilderness  to  a 
land  of  plenty.  I'm  willing  to  risk  something  on  your 
venture." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jacobs,"  was  all  Virginia  could  say,  and, 
womanlike,  the  tears  filled  her  eyes  and  ran  down  her 
cheeks. 

"Tell  the  men  to  send  a  committee  up  here  with  their 
needs  listed,"  Jacobs  said  hastily,  "or  better,  I'll  go  out 
there  myself  the  day  after  tomorrow.  I  want  to  see  what 
kind  of  a  claim  Carey  has  preempted.  Goodby,  now, 
goodby." 


118  Winning  the  Wilderness 

He  hurried  Virginia  to  her  horse  and  watched  her  ride 
away. 

Down  at  the  ford  of  Wolf  Creek  the  willow  brush 
fringed  the  main  trail  thinly  for  a  little  distance  and  half 
hid  the  creek  trail,  winding  up  a  long  canyon-like  hollow, 
until  a  low  place  in  the  bank  and  a  steep  climb  brought  it 
up  to  the  open  prairie.  It  was  the  same  trail  that  Dr. 
Carey  had  spoken  of  as  belonging  to  an  ugly  little  creek 
running  into  Big  Wolf,  the  trail  he  had  wanted  to  avoid 
on  the  day  he  had  heard  Virginia  singing  when  she  was 
lost  on  the  prairie  one  cold  day. 

Virginia  paused  in  this  semblance  of  shade  to  let  Juno 
drink.  She  pushed  back  her  sunbonnet  and  sat  waiting. 
Her  brown  face  grew  radiant  as  she  thought  of  the  good 
news  she  was  bearing  to  the  waiting  home-makers  of  the 
Grass  River  Valley.  A  song  came  to  her  lips,  and  as  she 
sang  a  soft  little  measure  she  remembered  how  somewhere 
down  a  tributary  to  this  very  creek  she  had  sung  for  help 
in  pleading  tones  one  cold  hopeless  day  three  years  before. 
So  intent  was  she  on  the  triumph  of  the  hour  she  did  not 
even  look  up  the  willow-shadowed  creek  trail. 

Dr.  Horace  Carey,  coining  in  from  a  distant  claim,  had 
dropped  into  this  trail  for  the  bits  of  shade  here  and  there 
and  was  letting  his  pony  take  its  way  leisurely  along  the 
side  of  the  creek  bed.  There  were  only  a  few  shallow  pools 
now  where  the  fall  rains  would  soon  put  a  running  stream, 
and  as  the  doctor's  way  lay  along  the  moist  places  the 
pony's  feet  fell  noiselessly  on  the  soft  ground.  As  he 
rounded  a  bend  in  the  stream  he  caught  sight  of  Virginia, 
her  face  outlined  against  the  background  of  willow  sprays, 
making  a  picture  worth  a  journey  to  see,  it  was  such  a 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned  119 

hopeful,  happy  face  at  that  moment.  Dr.  Carey  involun 
tarily  checked  his  pony  at  the  sight.  His  own  countenance 
was  too  pale  for  a  Kansas  plainsman,  and  he  sat  so  still 
that  the  low  strain  of  Virginia's  song  reached  his  ears. 

Presently  Juno  lifted  her  head  and  Virginia  rode  away 
out  on  the  Sunflower  Trail,  bordered  now  only  by  dead 
pest-ridden  stalks.  Suddenly  lifting  her  eyes  she  saw  far 
across  a  stretch  of  burned  prairie  a  landscape  of  exquisite 
beauty.  In  a  foreground  lay  a  little  lake  surrounded  by 
grassy  banks  and  behind  it,  on  a  slight  elevation,  stood  a 
mansion  house  of  the  old  Colonial  style  with  white  pillared 
portico,  and  green  vines  and  forest  trees  casting  cool  shade. 
Beyond  it,  wrapped  in  mist,  rose  a  mountain  height  with  a 
road  winding  picturesquely  in  and  out  along  its  side. 
Virginia  caught  her  breath  as  a  great  sob  rose  in  her 
throat.  This  was  all  so  like  the  old  Thaine  mansion  house 
of  her  childhood  years. 

"  It's  only  the  mirage,"  she  said  aloud.  "  But  it  was  so 
like  —  what?"  She  held  Juno  back  as  she  looked  afar  at 
the  receding  painting  of  the  plains.  "It's  like  the  house 
we'll  have  some  day  on  that  slope  beyond  the  Sunflower 
Inn.  The  mountains  are  misty.  They  are  only  the  moun 
tains  of  memory.  But  the  home  and  the  woods  and  the 
water  —  all  may  be  real." 

Then  she  thought  of  Asher  and  of  the  dull  prairie 
everywhere. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  would  want  to  go  back  if  he  could  see 
this  as  I  see  it,"  she  questioned.  "  But  I  know  he  has  seen 
it  daily.  I  can  tell  by  that  look  in  his  gray  eyes." 

It  was  long  after  moonrise  when  Asher  Aydelot,  watch 
ing  by  the  corral,  heard  the  sound  of  hoof-beats  and  saw 


120  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  faint  outline  of  a  horse  and  rider  swinging  in  from  the 
northward  as  once  before  he  had  watched  the  same  horse 
and  rider  swinging  over  the  same  trail  before  the  cool  north 
wind  that  beat  back  the  September  prairie  fire. 

"  I  have  supper  all  ready.  See  what  grew  just  for  you ! " 
Asher  said  as  he  and  his  wife  entered  the  house. 

A  bunch  of  forlorn  little  sunflowers  in  a  brown  pitcher 
graced  the  table.  They  could  scarcely  be  called  flowers, 
but  to  Virginia,  who  had  hardly  seen  a  blossom  through  the 
days  of  drouth,  the  joy  they  brought  was  keener  than  the 
joy  that  the  roses  and  orchids  gave  in  the  days  of  a  later 
prosperity. 

"  I  found  them  in  the  draw  where  the  wild  plums  grow," 
Asher  said.  "How  they  ever  escaped  the  hoppers  is  a 
miracle." 

"We  will  christen  our  claim  'The  Sunflower  Ranch* 
tonight,  and  these  are  our  decorations  for  the  ceremony. 
It  is  all  we  have  now.  But  it  is  ours,"  Virginia  declared. 

And  then  she  told  the  story  of  the  bank  failure  at 
Cloverdale. 

"The  last  bridge  is  burned  surely,"  Asher  commented 
as  he  looked  across  the  table  at  Virginia.  "This  is  the 
only  property  we  have  except  youth  and  health  and  hope 
—  and  —  each  other." 

"And  the  old  Aydelot  heritage  to  stand  for  principle, 
and  your  mother's  belief  in  the  West  and  in  you,  and  the 
Thaine  stubbornness  about  giving  up  what  they  want  to 
keep,"  Virginia  declared. 

"As  our  days  so  shall  our  strength  be,"  Asher  added, 
as  he  saw  his  wife's  face  bright  with  hope  and  determina 
tion,  and  remembered  the  sweet  face  of  his  mother  as  it 


The  Last  Bridge  Burned 


had  looked  that  night  on  the  veranda  of  the  old  farm 
house  by  the  National  pike  road. 

For  a  long  time  down  by  the  willows  thinly  shadowing 
Wolf  Creek  a  white-faced  man  sat  looking  out  toward  the 
west,  where  a  horse  and  rider  had  vanished  into  the  mellow 
tones  of  distance. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ANCHORED  HEARTHSTONES 

Dear  Mother  of  Christ,  who  motherhood  blessed, 

All  life  in  thy  Son  is  complete. 
The  length  of  a  day,  the  century's  tale 

Of  years  do  His  purpose  repeat. 
As  wide  as  the  world  a  sympathy  comes 

To  him  who  has  kissed  his  own  son, 
A  tenderness  deep  as  the  depths  of  the  sea, 

To  motherhood  mourning  is  won. 
No  life  is  for  naught.     It  was  heaven's  own  way 
That  the  baby  who  came  should  stay  only  a  day. 

T  IVING  by  faith,  which  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped 
•*— '  for,  is  good  for  the  spirit  but  reducing'  to  the  flesh. 
Yet  it  was  much  by  faith  that  the  frontier  settlers  lived 
through  the  winter  after  the  grasshopper  raid.  Jim 
Shirley  often  declared  in  that  time  between  crops  that  he 
could  make  three  meals  a  day  on  Pryor  Games'  smile.  And 
Todd  Stewart  asserted  that  when  the  meat  was  all  gone 
from  their  larder  his  family  lived  one  whole  week  on  John 
Jacobs'  belief  in  the  future  of  their  settlement.  For  the 
hardship  of  that  winter  was  heavy.  All  the  more  heavy 
because  the  settlers  were  not  stupid  pauper-bred  folk  but 
young  men  and  women  of  intelligence  and  culture,  whose 
early  lives  had  known  luxuries  as  well  as  comforts.  But 
the  saving  sense  of  humor,  the  saving  power  of  belief 
in  themselves,  and  the  saving  grace  of  brotherly  love  carried 
them  through. 

The  winter  was  mercifully  mild  and  the  short  grass  of 
the  prairies  was  nourishing  to  the  stock  that  must  other- 


Anchored  Hearthstones 


wise  have  perished.  Late  in  February  a  rainfall  began  that 
lasted  for  days  and  Grass  River,  rising  to  its  opportunity, 
drowned  all  the  fords,  so  that  the  neighbors  on  widely  sep 
arated  claims  were  cut  off  from  each  other.  No  telephones 
relieved  the  loneliness  of  the  country  dwellers  in  those  days, 
and  each  household  had  to  rely  on  its  own  resources  for  all 
its  needs.  March  came  raging  in  like  a  lion.  All  the  rain 
turned  to  snow  and  the  wind  to  a  polar  blast  as  the  one 
furious  blizzard  of  that  season  fell  upon  the  plains  and  for 
many  hours  threshed  the  snow-covered  land. 

On  the  night  before  the  coming  of  the  blizzard  the  light 
did  not  go  out  in  the  Aydelot  cabin.  And  while  the  wind 
and  rain  without  raved  at  door  and  window,  a  faint  little 
cry  within  told  that  a  new  life  had  come  to  the  world,  a 
baby  girl  born  in  the  midst  of  the  storm.  Morning  brought 
no  check  to  the  furious  elements.  And  Asher,  who  had 
fought  in  the  front  line  at  Antietam,  had  forced  his  way 
through  a  storm  of  Indian  arrows  out  of  a  death-trap  in 
the  foothills  of  the  Rockies,  had  ministered  to  men  on  the 
plains  dying  of  the  Asiatic  plague,  and  had  bound  up  the 
wounds  of  men  who  returned  to  the  battle  again,  found  a 
new  form  of  heroism  that  morning  in  his  own  little  cabin 
—  the  heroism  of  motherhood. 

"You  must  go  for  help,  Asher,"  Virginia  said,  smiling 
bravely.  "  Leave  the  baby  beside  me  here.  We'll  wait  till 
you  come  back.  Little  Sweetheart,  you  are  welcome,  if  you 
did  come  with  the  storm,  a  little  before  you  were  expected." 
The  young  mother  looked  fondly  at  the  tiny  face  beside 
her. 

"I  can't  leave  you  alone,  Virgie,"  Asher  insisted. 

"But  you  must."     Virginia's  voice  was  full  of  courage. 


124  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  You  can  go  as  far  as  Pryor  Games'  and  send  him  on  for 
you.  Little  daughter  and  I  will  be  all  right  till  you  come 
back." 

So  Asher  left  her. 

Pryor  Gaines  was  waterbound  across  Grass  River.  Of 
the  three  women  living  east  of  the  stream  one  was  sick 
abed,  one  was  kept  at  home  with  a  sick  husband,  and  the 
third  had  gone  with  her  husband  to  Wykerton  for  supplies 
and  was  stormstaid  somewhere  along  the  Sunflower  Trail. 

"  I  must  go  for  Jim.  Any  neighborhood  is  blessed  that 
has  a  few  good-hearted  unmarried  folks  in  it,"  Asher 
thought  as  he  braced  himself  against  the  driving  rain  and 
hurried  away. 

When  he  reached  home  again  the  fire  was  low,  the  house 
was  very  quiet,  and  Virginia's  face  was  white  against  her 
pillow. 

"Our  little  daughter  is  asleep,"  she  said,  and  turning 
away  she  seemed  not  to  hear  her  husband's  voice  assuring 
her  that  Jim  would  bring  the  doctor  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  blizzard  was  just  beginning  in  the  early  evening 
when  Jim  Shirley  fairly  blew  down  the  trail  from  the 
north.  He  slipped  into  the  kitchen  and  passed  quietly  to  the 
next  room.  Asher  was  bending  over  his  wife,  who  lay  in 
a  delirium. 

Jim  Shirley  had  one  of  those  sympathetic  natures  that 
read  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  their  friends  without  words. 
One  look  at  Asher  told  him  what  had  been. 

"  The  doctor  was  away  up  Wolf  Creek,  but  I  left  word 
with  his  colored  man  for  him  to  come  at  once,  and  he'll 
do  it,"  Jim  assured  Asher  as  he  stood  for  a  moment  beside 
the  bed.  "I  didn't  wait  because  you  need  me." 


Anchored  Hearthstones 


Asher  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  Jim.  As  man  to 
man  they  knew  as  never  before  the  strength  of  their  life 
time  friendship. 

"I  need  you.     She  needs  the  doctor.     The  baby  —  " 

"Doesn't  need  any  of  us,"  Jim  said  softly.  "I'll  do 
what  I  can." 

It  is  no  strange,  unreal  story  of  the  wilderness  day,  this 
fluttering  in  and  out  of  a  little  life,  where  no  rosewood 
grew  for  coffins  nor  florists  made  broken  columns  of  white 
lilies  and  immortelles. 

But  no  mother's  hands  could  have  been  more  gentle  than 
the  gentle  hands  of  Jim  Shirley  as  he  prepared  the  little 
form  for  burial. 

Meantime  the  wind  was  at  its  wildest,  and  the  plains 
blizzard  swirled  in  blinding  bitterness  along  the  prairie. 
The  hours  of  the  night  dragged  by  slowly  to  the  two  men 
hoping  for  the  doctor's  coming,  yet  fearing  that  hope  was 
impossible  in  the  face  of  such  a  night. 

"Carey  has  the  keenest  sense  of  direction  I  ever  knew 
in  a  human  being,"  Jim  assured  Asher.  "I  know  he  will 
not  fail  us." 

Yet  the  morning  came  and  the  doctor  came  not.  The 
day  differed  from  the  night  only  in  the  visible  fierceness 
of  the  storm.  The  wind  swept  howling  in  long  angry 
shrieks  from  the  northwest.  The  snow  seemed  one  dizzy, 
maddening  whirlpool  of  white  flakes  hanging  forever  above 
the  earth. 

Inside  the  cabin  Virginia's  delirium  was  turning  to  a 
frenzy.  And  Asher  and  Jim  forgot  that  somewhere  in 
the  world  that  day  there  was  warmth  and  sunlight,  health 
and  happiness,  flowers,  and  the  song  of  birds,  and  babies 


126  Winning  the  Wilderness 

cooing  on  their  mothers'  knees.     And  the  hours  of  the  day 
dragged  on  to  evening. 

Meanwhile,  Dr.  Carey  had  come  into  Wykerton  belated 
by  the  rains. 

"  The  wind  is  changing.  There'll  be  a  snowstorm  before 
morning,  Bo  Peep,"  he  said  wearily  as  the  young  colored 
man  assisted  him  into  warm,  dry  clothes.  "It's  glorious 
to  sit  by  a  fire  on  a  night  like  this.  I  didn't  know  how 
tired  I  was  till  now." 

"  Yes,  suh,  I'se  glad  you  all  is  home  for  the  night,  suh. 
I  sho'  is.  I  got  mighty  little  use  for  this  yuh  country. 
I'se  sorry  now  I  even  done  taken  my  leave  of  ol'  Virginny." 
Bo  Peep's  white  teeth  glistened  as  he  laughed. 

"  Any  calls  while  I  was  gone  ?  "  Dr.  Carey  asked. 

Bo  Peep  pretended  not  to  hear  as  he  busied  himself 
over  his  employer's  wraps,  until  Carey  repeated  the 
question. 

"  No,  suh !  no,  suh !  none  that  kaint  wait  till  mawhnin', 
suh,"  Bo  Peep  assured  him,  adding  to  himself,  "  Tiahd 
as  he  is,  he's  not  gwine  way  out  to  Grass  Riveh  this  blessed 
night,  not  if  I  loses  my  job  of  bein'  custodian  of  this  huh 
'stablishment.  Not  long's  my  name's  Bone-ah-gees  Peep- 
ehville,  no,  suh!" 

Dr.  Carey  settled  down  for  the  evening  with  some 
inexplicable  misgiving  he  could  not  overcome. 

"I  didn't  sleep  well  last  night,  Bo  Peep,"  he  said  when 
he  rose  late  the  next  morning.  "  I  reckon  we  doctors  get 
so  used  to  being  called  out  on  especially  bad  nights  we 
can't  rest  decently  in  our  beds." 

"  I  didn't  sleep  well,  nutheh,"  Bo  Peep  replied.     "  I  kep 


Anchored  Hearthstones  127 

thinldn'  bout  that  man  come  heah  fob  you  yestedy.  I  jes 
wa'n't  gwine  to  le'  yuh  go  out  again  las'  night." 

"What  did  he  want?"  the  doctor  asked,  secretly  appre 
ciative  of  Bo  Peep's  goodness  of  heart  as  he  saw  the  street 
full  of  whirling  snow. 

"  He  done  said  hit  wah  a  maturity  case." 

Bo  Peep  tried  to  speak  carelessly.  In  truth,  his  con 
science  had  not  left  him  in  peace  a  moment. 

"What  do  you  mean?  Who  was  it?"  Horace  Carey 
demanded. 

"  Don't  be  mad,  Doctah,  please  don't.  Hit  wah  cuz  you 
all  wah  done  woah  out  las'  night.  Hit  wah  Misteh  Shulley 
from  Grass  Riveh,  suh.  He  said  hit  wah  Misteh  Asheh 
Aydelot's  wife  —  " 

"For  the  love  of  God!"  Horace  Carey  cried  hoarsely, 
springing  up.  "Do  you  know  who  Mrs.  Aydelot  is,  Bo 
Peep?" 

"No,  suh;  neveh  see  huh." 

"  She  was  Virginia  Thaine  of  the  old  Thaine  family 
back  at  home." 

Bo  Peep  did  not  sit  down.  He  fell  in  a  heap  at  Dr. 
Carey's  feet,  moaning  grievously. 

"Fo5  Gawd,  I  neveh  thought  o'  harm.  I  jus'  thought 
o'  you  all,  deed  I  did.  Oh !  Oh ! " 

"Help  to  get  me  off  then,"  Carey  commanded,  and  Bo 
Peep  flew  to  his  tasks. 

When  the  doctor  was  ready  to  start  he  found  two  horses 
waiting  outside  in  the  storm  and  Bo  Peep,  wrapped  to  the 
eyes,  beside  them. 

"Why  two?"  he  asked  kindly,  for  Bo  Peep's  face  was 
so  full  of  sorrow  he  could  not  help  pitying  the  boy. 


128  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Please,  kaint  I  go  with  you  all  ?  I  can  cook  betteh'n 
Miss  Virginia  eveh  could,  an'  I  can  be  lots  of  help  an5  you 
all  '11  need  help." 

"But  it's  a  stinger  of  a  storm,  Bo  Peep,"  the  doctor 
insisted,  anxious  to  be  off. 

"  Neveh  mind !  Neveh  mind !  Lemme  go.  I  won't  com 
plain  of  no  stom."  And  the  doctor  let  him  go. 

It  was  already  dark  at  the  Sunflower  Ranch  when  the 
two,  after  hours  of  battling  with  wind  and  snow  and  bitter 
cold,  reached  the  cabin  door.  Bo  Peep,  instead  of  giving 
up  early  or  hanging  a  dead  weight  on  Dr.  Carey's  hands, 
as  he  had  feared  the  boy  might  do,  had  been  the  more 
hopeful  of  the  two  in  all  the  journey.  The  hardship  was 
Bo  Peep's  penance,  and  right  merrily,  after  the  nature  of 
a  merry-hearted  race,  he  took  his  punishment. 

Jim  Shirley,  putting  wood  on  the  kitchen  fire,  bent  low 
as  he  heard  the  piteous  moanings  from  the  sick  room. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  if  you  can  work  miracles  work  one  now," 
he  pleaded  below  his  breath.  "Bring  help  out  of  this 
storm  or  give  us  sense  to  do  the  best  for  her.  We  need 
her  so,  dear  Lord.  We  need  her  so." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  to  see  Horace  Carey  between  himself 
and  the  bedroom  door,  slipping  out  of  his  snowy  coat. 
And  beside  him  stood  Bo  Peep,  helping  him  to  get  ready 
for  the  sick  room. 

"  I  know  Miss  Virginia  back  in  the  Souf ,  suh.  I  done 
come  to  take  keer  of  this  kitchen  depahtment.  ,1  know 
jus'  what  she  lak  mos',  suh,"  Bo  Peep  said  to  Jim,  who 
had  not  moved  nor  spoken.  "I'se  Misteh  Bone-ah-gees 
Peepehville,  an'  I  done  live  with  Doctah  Carey's  family  all 
mah  life,  suh,  'cept  a  short  time  I  spent  in  the  Jacobs  House 


Anchored  Hearthstones  129 

at  Carey's  Crossing.  I'se  his  custodian  now,  suh,  and  I 
know  a  few  things  about  the  cookin'  depahtment,  suh." 

He  looked  the  part,  and  Jim  accepted  him  gladly. 

It  is  given  to  some  men  to  know  the  power  of  the  heal 
ing  spirit.  Dr.  Carey  was  such  a  man.  His  presence  con 
trolled  the  atmosphere  of  the  place.  There  was  balm 
in  his  voice  and  in  the  touch  of  his  hand  as  much  as  in  his 
medicines.  To  him  his  own  calling  was  divine.  Who  shall 
say  that  the  hope  and  belief  with  which  his  few  drugs  were 
ministered  carried  not  equal  power  with  them  toward  health 
and  wholeness? 

When  Virginia  Aydelot  had  fallen  asleep  at  last  the  doc 
tor  came  into  the  kitchen  and  sat  down  with  the  two 
haggard  men  to  whom  his  coming  had  brought  unspeakable 
solace. 

"You  can  take  comfort,  Mr.  Aydelot,"  he  said  assur- 
ingly.  "Your  wife  has  been  well  cared  for.  Hardly  one 
man  in  a  thousand  could  do  as  well  as  you  have  done.  I 
wonder  you  never  studied  medicine." 

"You  seem  confident  of  results,  Doctor,"  Asher  said 
gratefully. 

"I  have  known  the  Thaine  family  all  my  life,"  Horace 
Carey  said  quietly.  And  Asher,  whose  mind  was  surged 
with  anxiety,  did  not  even  think  to  be  surprised. 

"We  did  not  recognize  each  other  when  I  found  her 
on  the  way  to  Carey's  Crossing  three  or  four  years  ago, 
and — I  did  not  know  she  was  married  then." 

He  sat  a  while  in  silence,  looking  at  the  window  against 
which  the  wind  outside  was  whirling  the  snow.  When  he 
spoke  again  his  tone  was  hopeful. 

"Mrs.  Aydelot  has  had  a  nervous  shock.     But  she  is 


130  Winning  the  Wilderness 

young.  She  has  a  heritage  of  will  power  and  good  blood. 
She  will  climb  up  rapidly  with  the  coming  on  of  spring." 

How  strange  it  was  to  Asher  Aydelot  to  listen  to  such 
words !  He  had  not  slept  for  fifty  hours.  It  had  seemed 
to  him  that  the  dreadful  storm  outside  and  sickness  and 
the  presence  of  death  within  were  to  be  unending,  and  that 
in  all  the  world  Jim  Shirley  would  henceforth  be  his  only 
friend. 

"You  both  need  sleep,"  Carey  was  saying  in  a  matter 
of-fact  way.  Bo  Peep  will  take  care  of  things  here,  and  I 
will  look  after  Mrs.  Aydelot.  You  will  attend  to  the  burial 
at  the  earliest  possible  time  in  order  to  save  her  any  signs 
of  grieving.  And  you  will  not  grieve  either  until  you 
have  more  time.  And  remember,  Aydelot,"  he  put  his 
hand  comfortingly  on  Asher's  shoulders.  "Remember  in 
this  affliction  that  your  ambition  may  stake  out  claims  and 
set  up  houses,  but  it  takes  a  baby's  hand  to  really  anchor 
the  hearthstones.  And  sometimes  it  takes  even  more.  It 
needs  a  little  grave  as  well.  I  understood  from  Shirley 
that  some  financial  loss  last  fall  prevented  you  from  going 
back  to  Ohio.  You  wouldn't  leave  Grass  River  now  if  you 
could." 

Dr.  Carey's  face  was  magnetic  in  its  earnestness,  and 
even  in  the  sorrow  of  the  moment  Asher  remembered  that 
he  had  known  Virginia  all  her  life  and  he  wondered  sub 
consciously  why  the  two  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  each 
other. 

And  so  it  was  that  as  the  Sunflower  Inn  had  received 
the  first  bride  and  groom  to  set  up  the  first  home  in  the 
Grass  River  Valley,  so  the  first  baby  born  in  the  valley 
opened  its  eyes  to  the  light  of  day  in  the  same  Sunflower 


Anchored  Hearthstones  131 

Inn.  And  out  of  this  sod  cabin  came  the  first  form  to  its 
burial.  And  it  was  the  Sunflower  Ranch  that  gave  ground 
for  God's  Acre  there  for  all  the  years  that  followed.  It 
happened,  too,  that  as  Jim  Shirley  had  been  the  friendly 
helper  at  that  bridal  supper  and  happy  house-warming 
more  than  three  years  ago,  so  now  it  was  Jim  Shirley 
who  in  the  hour  of  sorrow  was  the  helper  still. 

The  winter  season  passed  with  the  passing  of  the  bliz 
zard.  The  warm  spring  air  was  delicious  and  all  the 
prairies  were  presently  abloom  with  a  wild  luxuriance  of 
flowers. 

Asher  carried  Virginia  to  the  sunshine  at  the  west  win 
dow  from  which  she  could  see  the  beautiful  outdoor  world. 

"We  wouldn't  leave  here  now  if  we  could,"  she  de 
clared  as  she  beheld  all  the  glory  of  the  springtime  rolling 
away  before  her  eyes. 

"Bank  accounts  bring  comforts,  but  they  do  not  make 
all  of  life  nor  consecrate  death.  We  have  given  our  first 
born  back  to  the  prairie.  It  is  sacred  soil  now,"  Asher 
replied. 

And  then  they  talked  of  many  things,  but  mostly  of 
Dr.  Carey. 

"  I  have  known  him  from  childhood,"  Virginia  said.  "  He 
was  my  very  first  sweetheart,  as  very  first  sweethearts  go. 
He  went  into  the  war  when  he  was  young.  I  didn't  know 
much  that  happened  after  that.  He  was  at  home,  I  think, 
when  you  were  in  that  hospital  where  I  first  saw  you,  and 
—  oh,  yes,  Asher,  dear,  he  was  at  home  when  your  blessed 
letter  came,  the  one  with  the  old  greasy  deuce  of  hearts  and 
the  sunflower.  It  was  this  same  Bo  Peep,  Carey's  boy, 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


who  brought  it  to  me  up  in  the  glen  behind  the  big  house. 
Horace  left  Virginia  just  after  that."  Virginia  closed  her 
eyes  and  lived  in  the  past  again. 

"I  wonder  you  never  cared  for  Dr.  Carey,  Virgie.  He 
is  a  prince  among  men,"  Asher  said,  as  he  leaned  over 
her  chair. 

"Oh,  I  might,  if  my  king  had  not  sent  me  that  sun 
flower  just  then.  It  made  a  new  world  for  me." 

"But  I  am  only  a  common  farmer,  Virgie,  just  a  king 
of  a  Kansas  claim,  just  a  home-builder  on  the  prairie," 
Asher  insisted. 

"Asher,  if  you  had  your  choice  this  minute  of  all  the 
things  you  might  be,  what  would  you  choose  to  be?" 
Virginia  asked. 

"  Just  a  common  farmer,  just  a  king  of  a  Kansas  claim," 
Asher  replied.  Then  looking  out  toward  the  swell  of 
ground  beside  the  Grass  River  schoolhouse  where  the  one 
little  mound  of  green  earth  marked  his  firstborn's  grave,  he 
added,  "  Just  a  home-builder  on  the  prairies." 

The  second  generation  of  grasshoppers  tarried  but 
briefly,  then  all  together  took  wing  and  flew  away,  no  man 
knew,  nor  cared,  whither.  And  the  Grass  River  settlers  who 
had  weathered  the  hurricane  of  adversity,  poor,  but  patient 
and  persistent  still,  planted,  sometimes  in  tears  to  reap  in 
joy,  sometimes  in  hope  to  reap  only  in  heartsick  hope 
deferred,  but  failed  not  to  keep  on  planting.  Other  set 
tlers  came  rapidly  and  the  neighborhood  thickened  and 
broadened.  And  so,  amid  hardships  still,  and  lack  of 
opportunity  and  absence  of  many  elements  of  culture,  a 
sturdy,  independent,  God-fearing  people  struggled  with 
the  soil,  while  they  lifted  up  faces  full  of  hope  and  deter- 


Anchored  Hearthstones  133 

mination  to  the  skies  above  them.  What  of  the  prairies 
they  could  subdue  they  bent  to  their  service.  What  they 
could  not  overcome  they  defied  the  right  to  overcome  them. 
There  were  no  lines  of  social  caste.  They  were  needy  or 
full  together.  They  shared  their  pleasures ;  together  they 
laughed  at  calamities;  and  they  comforted  one  another  in 
every  sorrow. 

A  new  town  was  platted  on  the  claim  that  Dr.  Carey 
had  preempted  where  the  upper  fork  of  Grass  River  crossed 
the  old  Sunflower  trail.  The  town  founders  ruled  Hans 
Wyker  out  of  a  membership  among  them.  Moreover,  they 
declared  their  intentions  of  forever  beating  back  all  efforts 
at  saloon  building  within  the  corporation's  limits,  making 
Wykerton  their  sworn  enemy  for  all  time.  In  the  new 
town,  which  was  a  ten-by-ten  shack  of  vertical  boards,  a 
sod  stable,  and  two  dugout  homes,  the  very  first  sale  of 
lots,  for  cash,  too,  was  made  to  Darley  Champers  &  Co., 
dealers  in  real  estate,  mortgages,  loans,  etc. 

One  summer  Sabbath  afternoon,  three  years  after  the 
grasshopper  raid  of  dreadful  memory,  Asher  came  again 
to  the  little  grave  in  the  Grass  River  graveyard  where  other 
graves  were  consecrating  the  valley  in  other  hearts.  This 
time  he  bore  in  his  arms  a  dimpled,  brown-eyed  baby 
boy  who  cooed  and  smiled  as  only  babies  can  and  flung 
his  little  square  fists  aimlessly  about  in  baby  joy  of 
living. 

"We'lJ  wait  here,  Thaine,  till  your  mother  comes  from 
Bennington's  to  tell  us  about  the  little  baby  that  just  came 
to  our  settlement  only  two  days  ago  and  staked  out  a  claim 
in  a  lot  of  hearts." 

Little   Thaine  had  found  that  his  fist  and  his  mouth 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


belonged  together,  so  he  offered  no  comment.  Asher  sat 
down  on  the  warm  sod  with  the  baby  on  his  knees. 

"This  is  your  little  sister's  grave,  Thaine.  She  staid 
with  us  less  than  a  day,  but  we  loved  her  then  and  we  love 
her  still.  Her  name  was  to  have  been  Mercy  Pennington 
Aydelot,  after  the  sweet  Quaker  girl  your  two  great-great 
grandfathers  both  loved.  Such  a  big  name  for  such  a  tiny 
girl!  She  isn't  here,  Thaine.  This  is  just  the  little  sod 
house  she  holds  as  her  claim.  She  is  in  a  beautiful  mansion 
now.  But  she  binds  us  always  to  the  Grass  River  Valley 
because  she  has  a  claim  here.  We  couldn't  bear  to  go 
away  and  leave  her  little  holding.  And  now  you've  come 
and  all  the  big  piece  of  prairie  soil  that  is  your  papa's 
and  mamma's  now  will  be  yours  some  day.  I  hope  you'll 
want  to  stay  here." 

A  stab  of  pain  thrust  him  deeply  as  he  remembered  his 
own  father  and  understood  for  the  first  time  what  Francis 
Aydelot  must  have  felt  for  him.  And  then  he  remembered 
his  mother's  sacrifice  and  breadth  of  view. 

"  Oh,  Thaine,  will  you  want  to  leave  us  some  da}7  ?  "  he 
said  softly,  gazing  down  into  the  baby's  big  dark  eyes. 
"  Heaven  give  me  breadth  and  courage  and  memory,  too," 
he  added,  "  when  that  time  comes  not  to  be  unkind  ;  but  to 
be  brave  to  let  you  go.  Only,  Thaine,  there's  no  bigger 
place  to  go  than  to  a  big,  fine  Kansas  farm.  Oh  !  we  fathers 
are  all  alike.  What  Clover  Creek  was  to  Francis  Aydelot, 
Grass  River  is  to  me.  Will  it  be  given  to  you  to  see  bigger 
things?" 

Thaine  Aydelot  crowed  and  stretched  his  little  legs  and 
threw  out  his  hands. 

"Thaine,  there  are  no  bigger  things  than  the  gifts  of 


Anchored  Hearthstones  135 

the  soil.  I  may  only  win  it,  but  you  can  find  its  hundred 
fold  of  increase.  See,  yonder  comes  your  mother.  Not 
the  pretty,  dainty  Virginia  girl  I  brought  here  as  my 
bride.  But  I  tell  you  truly,  baby  boy,  she  will  always  be 
handsome,  because  —  you  wouldn't  understand  if  I  told 
you,  but  you  will  some  day." 

"  Oh,  Asher,  the  new  baby  is  splendid,  and  Mrs.  Ben- 
nington  is  ever  so  well,"  Virginia  said,  coming  up  to  where 
he  sat  waiting  for  her.  "  They  call  her  Josephine  after 
Mr.  Bennington's  mother.  Thaine  will  never  be  lonely 
here,  as  we  have  been.  After  all,  it  is  not  the  little  graves 
alone  that  anchor  us  anywhere,  for  we  can  take  memory 
with  us  wherever  we  go ;  it  is  the  children  living,  as  wrell, 
that  hold  our  hearthstones  fast  and  build  a  real  community, 
even  in  a  wilderness.  We  are  just  ready  to  begin  now. 
The  real  story  of  the  prairie  is  the  story  of  the  second 
generation.  The  real  romance  out  here  will  be  Thaine 
Aydelot's  romance,  for  he  was  born  here." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  SERVICE 

Amid  all  the  din 

Of  the  everyday  battle  some  peace  may  begin, 
Like  the  silence  of  God  in  its  regal  content, 
Till  we  learn  what  the  lesson  of  yesterday  meant. 

TTANS  WYKER  had  managed  skillfully  when  he  pulled 

•*•  the  prospective  county  seat  of  Wolf  county  up 
Big  Wolf  Creek  to  Wykerton,  a  town  he  hoped  to  build 
after  his  own  ideals.  And  his  ideals  had  only  one  symbol, 
namely,  the  dollar  sign.  Hans  had  congratulated  himself 
not  a  little  over  his  success. 

"  I  done  it  all  mineself ,"  he  was  wont  to  boast.  "  So  long 
as  Doc  Carey  tink  he  own  der  town  vots  name  for  him,  an' 
so  long  as  Yon  Yacob,  der  ding-busted  little  Chew,  tink 
him  an'  Todd  Stewart  run  all  der  pusiness  mitout  regardin' 
my  saloon  pusiness,  an'  so  long  as  Pryor  Gaines  preachin' 
an'  teachin'  all  time  gifin'  black  eye  to  me,  'cause  I  sells 
wisky,  I  not  mak  no  hetway." 

"You  are  danged  right,"  Darley  Champers  would 
always  assure  him. 

"  Yah,  I  be.  But  von  day  I  pull  a  lot  of  strinks  at  vonce. 
I  pull  der  county  seat  locate  to  Pig  Wolf  Creek,  an'  I  put 
up  mine  prewery  here  mit  water  power  here  vot  dey 
vassent  not  at  Carey's  Crossing.  An'  der  railroat  comin' 
by  dis  way  soon,  I  know.  I  do  big  business  two  times  in 
vonce.  I  laugh  yet  to  tink  how  easy  Yon  Yacob  fall  down. 
If  Yon  Yacob  say  so  he  hold  Carey's  for  der  county  seat. 

136 


The  Beginning  of  Service  137 

But  no.  He  yust  sit  shut  oop  like  ant  neffer  say  von  sinkle 
vord.  An'  here  she  coom  —  my  prewery,  my  saloon,  my 
county  seat,  an'  all  in  vonce." 

Hans  would  laugh  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  rough  red 
cheeks.  Then  blowing  his  nose  like  a  blast  against  the 
walls  of  Jericho  he  would  add : 

"Yon  Yacob  go  back  to  Cincinnati.  Doc  Carey,  he 
come  Vest  an'  locate  again  right  here.  Course  he  tak  up 
claim  on  nort  fork  of  Grass  River.  But  dat's  yust  for 
speculation  some  yet.  Gaines  an'  Stewart  go  to  Grass  River 
settlement  an'  homestead.  Oh,  I  scatter  'em  like  chaffs. 
Ho !  Ho  ! "  And  again  the  laughter  would  bring  tears  to 
his  watery  little  white-gray  eyes. 

What  Hans  Wyker  said  of  John  Jacobs  was  true,  for 
in  the  council  that  decided  the  fate  of  the  town  it  was  his 
silence  that  lost  the  day  and  put  Carey's  Crossing  off  the 
map.  Hans,  while  rejoicing  over  the  result,  openly  accused 
Jacobs  of  being  a  ding-busted,  selfish  Jew  who  cared  for 
nobody  but  John  Jacobs.  Secretly  Hans  admired  Jacobs 
for  his  business  ability,  and  all  men  respected  him  for  a 
gentleman.  Hence  it  was  no  small  disappointment  to  the 
brewery  owner  to  find  when  Jacobs  returned  to  Kansas  that 
he  did  not  mean  to  open  a  business  in  Wykerton.  Instead, 
he  loaned  his  money  to  Grass  River  homesteaders. 

When  crops  began  to  bring  returns  Jacobs  established 
a  new  town  farther  west  on  the  claim  that  Dr.  Carey  had 
taken  up.  Jacobs  insisted  on  calling  the  place  Careyville 
m  honor  of  the  doctor,  because  he  had  been  the  means  of 
annihilating  the  first  town  named  after  Carey.  And  since 
he  had  befriended  the  settlers  in  the  days  after  the  grass 
hopper  raid  he  drew  all  the  trade  west  of  Big  Wolf  to 


138  Winning  the  Wilderness 

this  new  town,  cutting  deep  into  the  Wykerton  business. 
Misfortunes  hunt  in  couples  when  they  do  not  gather  in 
larger  companies.  Not  only  did  the  Jacobs  store  decrease 
the  income  of  the  Wykerton  stores,  but,  following  hard 
after,  came  the  shifting  of  county  lines.  Wolf  county 
fell  into  three  sections,  to  increase  three  other  counties. 
The  least  desirable  ground  lay  in  the  north  section,  and 
the  town  built  up  on  a  brewery  and  the  hopes  of  being  hit 
by  a  railroad  survey,  and  of  holding  the  county  seat,  was 
left  in  this  third  part  which,  like  Caesar's  third  part  of  all 
Gaul,  was  most  barbarous  because  least  often  the  refining 
influences  of  civilization  found  their  way  thither. 

Then  came  the  crushing  calamity,  the  Prohibitory  Law, 
which  put  Hans  Wyker  out  of  business.  And  hand  in 
hand  with  this  disaster,  when  the  railroad  came  at  last  it 
drove  its  steel  lines  imperiously  westward,  ignoring  \Yjker- 
ton,  with  the  ugly  little  canyons  of  Big  Wolf  on  the  north, 
and  the  site  of  Carey's  Crossing  beside  the  old  blossom- 
bordered  trail  on  the  south.  Finding  the  new  town  of 
Careyville  a  strategic  point,  it  headed  straight  thither, 
built  through  it,  marked  it  for  a  future  division  point,  and 
forged  onward  toward  the  sunset. 

Dr.  Carey  had  located  an  office  on  his  claim  when  there 
were  only  four  other  buildings  on  the  Careyville  townsite. 
Darley  Champers  opened  a  branch  office  there  about  the 
same  time,  although  he  did  not  leave  Wykerton.  But  the 
downfall  of  Wyker  and  his  interests  cut  deeper  into  the 
interests  of  the  Grass  River  settlement  than  anyone  dreamed 
of  at  the  time.  It  sifted  into  Wyker's  slow  brain  that  the 
Jew,  as  he  called  Jacobs  with  many  profane  decorations, 
had  been  shrewd  as  well  as  selfish  when  his  silent  vote  had 


The  Beginning  of  Service  139 

given  Wykerton  the  lead  in  the  race  for  a  county  seat 
location. 

"Infernal  scoundrel,"  Hans  would  cry  with  many  ges 
tures,  "  he  figger  it  out  in  his  own  little  black  het  and  neffer 
tell  nobody,  so.  He  know  to  hisself  dat  Carey's  Crossing's 
too  fur  sout,  so  —  an'  Big  Wolf  Creek  too  fur  nort,  so." 
Hands  wide  apart,  and  eyes  red  with  anger.  "  He  know 
der  survey  go  between  like  it,  so !  And  he  figger  it  hit  yust 
fer  it  hit  Grass  River,  nort  fork.  An'  he  make  a  townsite 
dere,  yust  where  Doc  Carey  take  oop.  Devil  take  him! 
An'  he  pull  all  my  town's  trade  mit  his  fat  pocketbook,  huh ! 
I  send  Champers  to  puy  all  Grass  River  claims.  Dey  don't 
sell  none.  I  say,  '  Champers,  let  'em  starf .'  Den  Cham 
pers,  he  let  'em.  When  supplies  for  crasshopper  sufferers 
cooms  from  East  wre  lock  'em  oop  in  der  office,  tight.  An' 
ve  sell  'em.  Huh!  Cooms  Yon  Yacob  an'  he  loan  claim- 
holters  money  —  fife  per  cent,  huh!  Puy  'em,  hide  an' 
hoof,  an'  horn,  an'  tail!  Dey  all  swear  py  Yon  Yacob. 
He  rop  me.  I  fix  him  yet  sometime.  I  hate  Yon  Yacob !" 

And  Hans  Wyker's  hate  was  slow,  but  it  was  incurably 
poison. 

One  morning  in  early  autumn  Dr.  Horace  Carey  drove 
leisurely  down  the  street  of  the  town  that  bore  his  name. 
The  air  was  crisp  and  invigorating,  for  the  September 
heat  had  just  been  broken  by  copious  showers.  Todd 
Stewart  stood  in  the  doorway  of  Jacobs'  store,  watching  the 
doctor's  approach. 

"  Good  morning,  Doctor,"  he  called.  "  Somebody  dying 
or  a  highwayman  chasing  after  you  for  your  pocketbook, 
that  you  drive  so  furiously?" 

"Good  morning,   Stewart.     No,  nobody  is  in  danger. 


•140  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Can't  a  doctor  enjoy  life  once  in  a  while?  The  country's 
so  disgustingly  healthy  I  have  to  make  the  best  of  it  and 
kill  time  some  way.  Come,  help  at  the  killing,  won't  you  ?  " 
Carey  drew  rein  before  the  door  of  the  store. 

"I  can't  do  it,  Carey.  Jacobs  is  away  up  on  Big 
Wolf  appraising  some  land  and  I  want  to  be  here  when 
he  comes  in.  I  must  do  some  holding  up  myself  pretty 
soon  if  things  don't  pick  up  after  this  hot  summer." 

"You're  an  asset  to  the  community,  to  be  growling  like 
that  with  this  year's  crops  fairly  choking  the  market," 
Horace  Carey  declared. 

With  a  good-by  wave  of  his  hand  he  turned  his  horses' 
heads  toward  the  south  and  took  his  way  past  the  grain 
elevator  toward  the  railroad  crossing.  The  morning  train 
was  just  pulling  up  to  the  station,  blocking  the  street,  so 
Carey  sat  still  watching  it  with  that  interest  a  great  loco 
motive  in  motion  always  holds  for  thinking  people. 

"  Papa,  there's  Doctor  Carey,"  a  child's  voice  cried,  and 
Thaine  Aydelot  bounded  across  the  platform  toward  him, 
followed  by  his  less-excited  father. 

Thaine  was  a  sturdy,  sun-browned  little  fellow  of  seven 
years,  with  blooming  cheeks  and  big  dark  eyes.  He  was 
rather  under  than  over  normal  size,  and  in  the  simplicity  of 
plains  life  he  had  still  the  innocence  of  the  very  little  boy. 

"  Good  morning,  Thaine.  Good  morning,  Aydelot.  Are 
you  just  getting  home?  Let  me  take  you  out.  I'm  going 
your  way  myself,"  Dr.  Carey  said. 

"  Good  morning.  Yes,  we  are  getting  home  a  little 
earlier  than  we  were  expected  and  nobody  is  here  to  meet 
us.  We'll  be  glad  to  ride  out  with  you." 

Asher  lifted  Thaine  into  the  buggy  with  the  words.     A 


The  Beginning  of  Service  141 

certain  reserve  between  the  two  men  had  never  been 
broken,  although  they  respected  each  other  deeply  and 
were  fast  friends. 

The  train  cleared  the  crossing  and  the  three  went  south 
over  the  bridge  across  the  dry  North  Fork  Creek,  beyond 
the  cattle  pens,  and  on  to  the  open  country  leading  out 
toward  the  Grass  River  Valley.  The  morning  was  glorious 
with  silvery  mists  lifting  along  che  river's  course  and  a 
shimmering  light  above  golden  stubble  and  brown  plowed 
land  and  level  prairie;  while  far  away,  in  all  its  beauty, 
hung  the  deep  purple  veil  that  Nature  drops  between  her 
finite  and  her  infinite,  where  the  things  that  are  seen  melt 
into  the  things  that  are  not  seen. 

"  Take  the  lines,  Aydelot,  and  let  me  visit  with  Thaine," 
Horace  Carey  said,  giving  Asher  the  reins. 

He  was  fond  of  children  and  children  were  more  than 
fond  of  him.  Thaine  idolized  him  and  snuggled  up  in  his 
lap  now  with  complete  contentment  of  soul. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it  now,  Thaine.  Where  have  you 
been  so  long?  I  might  have  missed  you  down  on  the 
Sunflower  Ranch  this  morning  if  I  had  driven  faster  and 
headed  off  the  through  train  as  it  came  in." 

"Oo-o!"  Thaine  groaned  at  the  possible  disaster  to 
himself.  "We've  been  to  Topeka,  a  very  long  way  off." 

"  And  you  saw  so  many  fine  things  ?  "  Carey  questioned. 

"Yes,  a  big,  awful  big  river.  And  a  bridge  made  of 
iron.  And  it  just  rattled  when  we  went  across.  And  there 
were  big  pieces  of  the  Statehouse  lying  around  in  the  tall 
weeds.  And  such  greeny  green  grass  just  everywhere. 
And,  and,  oh,  the  biggest  trees.  So  many,  all  close 
together.  Papa  said  it  was  like  Ohio.  Oh,  so  big.  I 


142  Winning  the  Wilderness 

never  knew  trees  could  grow  so  big,  nor  so  many  of  them 
all  together." 

Little  Thaine  spread  his  short  arms  to  show  how  won 
drous  large  these  trees  were. 

"He  has  never  seen  a  tree  before  that  was  more  than 
three  inches  through,  except  two  or  three  lonesome  cotton- 
woods.  The  forests  of  his  grandfather's  farm  in  Ohio 
would  be  gigantic  to  him.  How  little  the  prairie  children 
know  of  the  world ! "  Asher  declared. 

Dr.  Carey  remembered  what  Jim  Shirley  had  told  him 
of  that  lost  estate  in  Ohio,  and  refrained  from  comment. 

"You'd  like  to  live  in  Topeka  where  the  big  Kaw  river 
is,  and  the  big  trees  along  its  banks,  and  so  much  green 
grass,  wouldn't  you,  Thaine?" 

"No!"  The  child's  face  was  quaintly  contemptuous. 
"It's  too  — too  choky."  The  little  hand  clutched  at  the 
fat  brown  throat.  "And  the  grass  is  so  mussy  green,  and 
you  can't  see  to  aTM/where  for  the  bumpy  hills  and  things. 
I  like  our  old  brown  prairies  best.  It's  so  —  nice  out 
here."  And  with  a  sigh  of  perfect  satisfaction  Thaine 
leaned  against  Dr.  Carey's  shoulder  and  gazed  out  at  the 
wide  landscape  swathed  in  the  early  morning  sunlight. 

The  two  men  exchanged  glances. 

"  This  will  be  the  land  of  memory  for  him  some  day,  as 
you  look  back  to  the  mountains  of  Virginia  and  I  to  the 
woodlands  of  Ohio,"  Asher  said. 

"  It  is  worth  remembering,  anyhow,"  Carey  replied.  "  I 
can  count  twenty  young  wind-breaks  from  the  swell  just 
ahead,  and  the  groves  are  springing  up  on  many  ranches 
from  year  to  year.  Your  grove  is  the  finest  in  the  valley 
now,  Aydelot." 


The  Beginning  of  Service  143 

"  It  is  doing  well,"  Asher  said.  "  Mrs.  Aydelot  and  I 
planned  our  home-to-be  on  the  first  evening  we  came  to  the 
Sunflower  Inn.  It  was  a  sort  of  mirage-of-the-desert  pic 
ture,  it  is  true,  but  wre  were  like  the  tapestry  weavers.  We 
hung  the  pattern  up  before  our  eyes  and  worked  to  it.  It 
is  slow  weaving,  I'll  admit,  but  we  kept  on  because  we 
wanted  to  at  first,  then  because  we  had  to,  and  finally 
because  our  hearts  took  root  in  a  baby's  grave.  They 
say  the  tapestry  makers  work  on  the  wrong  side  of  the 
threads,  but  when  their  work  is  done  the  pattern  comes 
out  complete.  I  hope  ours  will  too.  But  there's  many  a 
day  of  aching  muscles,  and  many  a  day  of  disappointment 
along  the  way.  Crops  prosper  and  crops  fail,  but  we 
can't  let  the  soil  go  untilled." 

"  I  think  we  are  all  tapestry  weavers.  The  trouble  is 
sometimes  in  the  pattern  we  hang  up  before  us  and  some 
times  in  the  careless  weaving,"  Dr.  Carey  added. 

They  rode  a  while  in  silence.  The  doctor's  cheek  was 
against  Thaine's  dark  hair  and  Asher  looked  down  at  his 
hard  brown  hands  and  then  away  at  the  autumn  prairie. 

Fifteen  years  on  a  plains  claim,  with  all  the  daily  grind 
of  sowing  and  reaping  and  care  of  stock  and  garden,  had 
not  taken  quite  all  the  military  bearing  from  him.  He 
was  thirty-eight  years  old  now,  vigorous  and  wholesome  and 
hopeful.  The  tanning  Kansas  sunshine  had  not  hidden 
the  old  expression  of  patience  and  endurance,  nor  had  the 
sight  of  many  hardships  driven  the  vision  from  the  clear, 
far-seeing  gray  eyes. 

"  Look  at  the  sunflowers,  Papa,"  Thaine  cried  as  a  curve 
of  the  trail  brought  a  long  golden  line  to  view. 

"You  like  the  sunflowers,  don't  you?"  Carey  asked. 


144  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Oh,  yes,  better  than  all  the  flowers  on  the  prairie.  My 
mamma  loves  them,  too,  because  they  made  her  think  once 
papa  wasn't  dead." 

"  Thaine,  what  do  you  mean  to  do  when  you  grow  up  ?  " 
Horace  Carey  interrupted  the  child. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  a  soldier  like  my  papa  was,"  Thaine 
declared  decisively. 

"But  there  will  probably  be  no  wars.  You  see,  your 
papa  and  I  fought  the  battles  all  through  and  settled 
things.  Maybe  you  can't  go  to  war,"  Dr.  Carey  suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can.  There'll  be  another  war  by  that  time, 
and  I'm  going,  too.  And  when  I  come  back  I'm  going 
away  to  where  the  purple  notches  are  and  have  a  big  ranch 
and  do  just  like  my  papa,"  Thaine  asserted. 

"Where  are  the  purple  notches?"  the  doctor  asked. 

"  See  yonder,  away,  way  off? " 

Thaine  pointed  toward  the  misty  southwest  horizon 
where  three  darker  curves  were  outlined  against  a  back 
ground  of  pale  purple  blending  through  lilac  up  to  silvery 
gray. 

"I'm  going  there  some  day,"  the  boy  insisted. 

"And  leave  your  papa  and  mamma?" 

"They  left  their  papas  and  mammas,  too,"  Thaine 
philosophized. 

The  men  laughed,  although  each  felt  a  curious  deep 
pain  at  the  boy's  words. 

Thaine  settled  back,  satisfied  to  be  silent  as  he  watched 
the  wonderful  prairie  landscape  about  him. 

"I  am  going  down  to  Shirley's,"  Carey  began,  as  if  to 
change  the  subject.  "Strange  fellow,  Jim;  I  never  knew 
another  like  him." 


The  Beginning  of  Service  145 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  Shirley,"  Asher  responded. 
"  He  is  a  royal  neighbor  and  true  friend,  better  to  every 
body  else  than  he  is  to  himself.  His  own  crops  suffer  some 
times  while  he  helps  other  folks  lay  theirs  by.  And  yet 
his  premises  always  look  like  he  was  expecting  company. 
One  cannot  help  wondering  what  purpose  stays  him  in  his 
work." 

"There  is  the  tragedy  of  it,"  Horace  Carey  declared. 
"I  never  knew  a  more  affectionate  man,  yet  he  has  lived 
a  bachelor  all  these  years." 

"  How  long  have  you  known  him,  Carey  ?  "  Asher  asked. 

"  Since  the  night  at  Kelley's  Ferry,  back  in  the  Civil 
War.  Our  regiment,  the  Fifty-fourth  Virginia,  was  taken. 
We  were  worn  out  with  fighting  and  marching,  and  we 
were  nearly  starved  besides.  The  Third  Ohio  boys  had 
been  in  the  same  fix  once  and  our  boys  — " 

"  Yes,  I  was  a  Third  Ohio  boy.  I  know  what  you  fellows 
did.  You  saved  our  lives,"  Asher  broke  in. 

"  Well,  you  paid  us  back  at  Kelley's  Ferry.  I  first  knew 
Jim  Shirley  that  night,  although  he  remembered  me  from 
the  time  we  had  your  regiment  at  our  mercy.  He  brought 
me  bacon  and  hard  tack  and  coffee.  We  have  been  friends 
ever  since.  How  long  have  you  known  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  war  when  I  get  big,  before  I  ever  go  to 
the  purple  notches.  I  know  I  am." 

Thaine  had  been  listening  intently  and  now  he  broke 
in  with  face  aglow  and  eyes  full  of  eagerness. 

"  God  forbid ! "  Carey  said.  "  The  lure  of  the  drum  beat 
might  be  hard  for  older  men  to  resist  even  now." 

"Your  hand  will  fit  a  plow  handle  better  than  a  gun- 
stock,  Thaine,"  his  father  assured  him,  looking  down  at 


146  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  boy's  square,  sun-browned  hand  with  a  dimple  in  each 
knuckle. 

Thaine  shut  his  lips  tightly  and  said  no  more.  But  his 
father,  who  knew  the  heart  of  a  boy,  wondered  what 
thoughts  might  lie  back  of  that  silence. 

"I  have  known  Jim  all  my  life,"  Asher  Aydelot  took 
up  the  conversation  where  Thaine  had  interrupted  it. 
"  That  is  why  I  have  wondered  at  the  tenacity  of  his  hold 
ing  on  out  here.  A  man  of  his  temperament  is  prone  to 
let  go  quickly.  Besides,  Jim  is  far  from  being  a  strong 
man  physically." 

"  When  he  was  down  with  pneumonia  in  the  early  seven 
ties  he  was  ready  to  give  up.  Didn't  want  to  get  well  and 
was  bound  not  to  do  it,"  Dr.  Carey  said,  "but  somehow  a 
letter  I  had  brought  him  seemed  to  change  him  with  one 
reading.  '  I  will  do  anything  to  get  back  to  strength  and 
work,'  he  declared,  and  he  has  worked  ever  since  like  a  man 
who  knew  his  business,  even  if  his  business  judgment  is 
sometimes  faulty." 

They  rode  awhile  in  silence,  drinking  in  the  delicious  air 
of  early  autumn.  Presently  Dr.  Carey  said: 

"  Aydelot,  I  am  taking  a  letter  down  to  Jim  this  morning. 
It  is  in  the  same  handwriting  as  the  one  I  took  when  he 
had  the  pneumonia  so  severely.  I  learned  a  little  something 
of  Jim's  affairs  through  friends  when  I  was  East  studying 
some  years  ago." 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  to  change  the 
subject,  he  continued: 

"By  the  way,  there  was  a  bank  failure  at  Cloverdale 
once  that  interested  you.  Did  you  ever  investigate  it?" 

"  There  was  nothing  to  investigate,"  Asher  replied. 


The  Beginning  of  Service  147 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  connect  the  query  with  Carey's 
knowledge  of  Shirley's  affairs  or  with  his  studying  in  the 
East. 

"  You  have  relatives  there  ?  "  Carey  asked. 

"  Yes,  a  Jane  Aydelot.  Married,  single,  widowed,  I  can't 
tell.  My  father  left  his  estate  to  her.  I  was  in  love  with 
the  West  then,  and  madly  in  love  with  my  wife.  My 
father  wasn't  impressed  with  either  one.  But,  you  see,  I 
was  rash  about  little  things  like  money  matters.  I  had  so 
much  faith  in  myself  and  I  couldn't  give  up  a  girl  like 
Virginia  Thaine.  Understand,  I  have  no  quarrel  with  Jane 
Aydelot.  Her  property  is  absolutely  her  own,  not  mine 
to  crave  and  look  forward  to  getting  some  day." 

"  I  understand,"  Horace  Carey  said,  looking  out  toward 
the  purple  notches  now  more  clearly  outlined  against  the 
sky.  "  How  this  country  has  changed  since  that  cold  day 
when  Mrs.  Aydelot  came  almost  to  the  old  Crossing  after 
me.  The  sand  dunes  narrow  and  the  river  deepens  a  little 
every  year.  The  towns  come  and  go  on  the  prairies,  but 
the  homesteaders  build  better.  It  is  the  farmer  who  really 
makes  a  new  country  habitable." 

"That's  what  my  mother  said  when  I  talked  of  ccming 
West.  But  the  real  test  will  come  with  the  second  gen 
eration.  If  it  is  loyal  we  will  have  won.  Here  is  the  old 
Grass  River  trail  that  Jim  and  I  followed  many  lonely 
days.  The  valley  is  slowly  coming  out  of  the  wilderness," 
Asher  replied,  remembering  his  wife's  words  long  before 
when  she  said :  "  The  real  story  of  the  plains  is  the  story 
of  the  second  generation.  The  real  romance  out  here  will 
be  Thaine  Aydelot's  romance." 

They  had  reached  the  old  trail  that  led  to  the  Grass  River 


148  Winning  the  Wilderness 

settlement  now.  It  was  still  a  new  country  where  few  trees, 
save  some  lone  cottonwoods,  were  as  tall  as  a  cabin,  and 
nothing  broke  the  view.  But  groves  had  rooted,  low  wind 
breaks  cut  the  country  at  frequent  intervals;  many  acres 
of  sod  had  been  turned  by  the  plow,  and  many  more  were 
being  shut  in  by  fences  where  the  open  cattle  range  was 
preempted  by  freeholds.  One  bit  of  woodland,  however, 
was  beginning  to  dignify  the  valley.  The  Aydelot  grove 
spread  over  a  hundred  acres  before  the  one-time  sod  Sun 
flower  Inn.  The  new  home  was  on  the  swell  now  as  Virginia 
had  seen  the  Colonial  mansion  of  the  mirage  on  the  day 
she  went  seeking  aid  for  the  grasshopper-beset  neighbor 
hood.  But  this  was  just  a  little  cottage  waiting,  like  the 
grove,  for  years  of  time  in  which  to  grow  a  mansion 
shaded  with  tall  trees,  with  the  lake  and  the  woodland 
before  it,  and  the  open  prairie  beyond. 

Down  at  Jim  Shirley's  ranch  the  changes  were  many,  for 
Jim  had  an  artist's  eye.  And  the  energy  other  settlers 
spent  on  the  needs  of  wives  and  children  Jim  spent  on 
making  his  little  dwelling  attractive.  He  had  brought 
clover  seed  from  Ohio,  and  had  carefully  sowed  a  fire  guard 
around  his  sod  shack.  Year  by  year  the  clover  business 
increased;  fire  guard  grew  to  clover-lot,  and  clover-lot  to 
little  meadow.  Then  the  little  meadow  expanded  along 
Grass  River  to  a  small  cattle  range.  Over  the  door  of  his 
four-roomed  cottage  he  put  the  name  "  Cloverdale,"  as 
he  had  put  it  over  his  sod  cabin  years  before.  And  the 
Cloverdale  Ranch,  like  the  Sunflower  Ranch  farther  up  the 
river,  became  a  landmark  on  the  trail. 

Pryor  Gaines,  still  the  teacher-preacher  of  the  Grass 
River  settlement,  had  come  to  the  Cloverdale  Ranch  on  an 


The  Beginning  of  Service  149 

errand,  and  he  and  Jim  Shirley  were  chatting  beside  the  well 
curb  when  Dr.  Carey  drove  up. 

"Hello,  Carey.  How  did  you  scent  chicken  pie  so  far? 
And  a  plum  pudding  all  brown  and  ready  ?  "  Shirley  called 
hospitably. 

"  It's  my  business  to  find  what  produces  sickness  as  well 
as  to  provide  cures,"  Carey  responded  as  he  stepped  from 
his  buggy  to  tie  his  horses. 

"Take  him  in  the  house,  Pryor,  while  I  stable  his 
crowbaits,"  Jim  said,  patting  one  of  the  doctor's  well 
groomed  horses  the  while. 

"I  hope  you  will  stay,  too,"  Horace  Carey  said  to 
Pryor  Gaines.  "  I  have  some  important  news  for  Shirley, 
and  you  and  he  are  fast  friends." 

"The  bachelor  twins  of  Grass  River,"  Pryor  Gaines 
declared.  "  Jim  hasn't  any  lungs  and  I  haven't  any  heart, 
so  we  manage  to  keep  a  half  a  household  apiece,  and  added 
together  make  one  fairly  reputable  citizen.  I'll  stay  if  Jim 
wishes  me  to,  of  course." 

"  The  two  most  useful  men  in  the  community,"  Carey 
declared.  "Jim  has  been  father  and  mother,  big  brother, 
and  hired  girl  for  half  the  settlement,  while  you,  you 
marry  and  train  up  and  bury.  No  neighborhood  is  com 
plete  without  a  couple  of  well-meaning  old  bachelors." 

"  How  about  a  bachelor  M.  D.  ? "  Pryor  Gaines  asked. 
"  I've  not  been  able  to  get  in  my  work  on  you  yet." 

"Purely  a  necessary  evil,  the  M.  D.  business,"  Carey 
insisted.  "  Here's  Jim  now.  We  wait  the  chicken  and 
plum  pudding,  Host  Shirley." 

Jim's  skill  as  a  cook  had  not  decreased  since  the  day 
when  he  prepared  Asher  Aydelot's  wedding  supper,  and 


150  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  three  men  who  sat  together  at  that  day's  meal  took 
large  enjoyment  in  this  quiet  hour  together. 

"I  have  a  letter  for  you,  Shirley,"  the  doctor  said  at 
last.  "  It  was  sent  to  me  some  months  ago  with  the 
request  that  I  give  it  to  you  when  I  had  word  to  do  so. 
I  have  had  word.  Here  it  is." 

"I  think  I'll  be  going  now."  Pry  or  Gaines  rose  with 
the  words. 

"Don't  go,"  Jim  insisted.     "I  want  you  here." 

So  Gaines  sat  down.  Shirley,  who  was  quick  in  intuitive 
power,  knew  instinctively  what  awaited  him.  He  opened 
the  letter  and  read  it  while  the  two  friends  busied  them 
selves  with  a  consideration  of  Jim's  bookcase,  reading-table, 
and  toolchest  combined,  all  made  out  of  one  goods  box  with 
sundry  trimmings. 

Jim  said  nothing  when  he  had  finished,  grateful  that  no 
painful  silence  on  the  part  of  the  other  two  men  forced 
him  to  words  until  he  was  ready  to  speak. 

"Listen  to  me,"  he  said  at  length.  "I  need  your  help 
now.  When  I  came  West  life  didn't  seem  worth  living  at 
first,  but  I  had  it  on  my  hands  and  couldn't  throw  it  away. 
I  tried  to  take  an  interest  in  Asher  Aydelot's  home.  But  it 
is  a  second-rate  kind  of  pleasure  to  sit  by  your  own  lonely 
fireside  and  enjoy  the  thought  of  the  comfort  another  man 
has  in  his  home  with  the  wife  of  his  choice." 

A  shadow  fell  on  Dr.  Carey's  face  as  he  sat  looking 
through  the  open  window  at  the  stretch  of  green  clover 
down  the  valley. 

"  I  was  about  ready  to  call  time  on  myself  one  winter 
here  when  Carey  brought  me  a  letter.  It  was  from  Alice 
Leigh,  my  brother  Tank's  wife.  Tank  and  I  were  related 


The  Beginning  of  Service  151 

—  by  marriage.  We  had  the  same  father,  but  not  the 
same  mother.  My  mother  died  the  day  I  was  born. 
Nobody  else  is  so  helpless  as  a  man  with  a  one-day-old 
baby.  My  father  was  fairly  forced  into  a  second  marriage 
by  my  step-mother,  Betsy  Tank.  She  was  the  housekeeper 
at  the  tavern  after  my  mother's  death.  Her  god  was  prop 
erty  and  Tank  is  just  like  her.  She  married  the  old  Shirley 
House.  It  looked  big  to  her.  Oh,  well !  I  needn't  repeat  a 
common  family  history.  I  never  had  a  mother,  nor  a  wife, 
nor  a  sister,  nor  a  brother.  Even  my  father  was  early  pre 
judiced  in  Tank's  interest  against  mine,  always.  The  one 
happy  memory  of  my  boyhood  years  was  the  loving  interest 
of  Asher  Aydelot's  mother,  who  made  the  old  Aydelot  farm 
house  on  the  National  road  a  welcome  spot  to  me.  For 
the  Lord  made  me  with  a  foolish  longing  for  a  home  and 
all  of  these  things  —  father,  mother,  sister,  and  brother." 

"  So  you  have  been  father  and  mother,  brother  and  sister 
to  this  whole  settlement,"  Pryor  Gaines  said. 

"Which  may  be  vastly  satisfying  to  these  relatives,  but 
does  not  always  fill  the  lack  in  one's  own  life,"  Horace 
Carey  added,  as  a  man  who  might  know  whereof  he  spoke. 

"I  won't  bore  you  with  details,"  Jim  began  again. 
"  The  letter  I  had  from  Alice  Leigh,  Tank's  wife,  a  dozen 
or  more  years  ago,  asked  me  if  I  would  take  the  guardian 
ship  of  her  children  if  they  should  need  a  guardian.  I 
knew  they  would  need  one,  if  she  were  —  taken  from  earth, 
as  she  had  reason  to  fear  then  that  she  might  be  soon.  I 
began  to  live  with  a  new  motive  —  a  sense  that  I  was 
needed,  a  purpose  to  be  ready  to  help  her  children  —  the 
one  service  I  could  give  to  her.  There's  a  long,  cruel  story 
back  of  her  marriage  to  Tank  —  a  story  of  deception, 


152  Winning  the  Wilderness 

coercion,  love  of  money,  and  all  the  elements  of  common 
cussedness  —  too  common  to  make  a  good  story.  And,  as 
generally  happens,  when  Tank  married  the  girl  who  didn't 
want  him  he  treated  her  as  he's  always  treated  everybody 
else." 

Jim  clinched  his  fists  hard  and  shut  his  teeth  with  a  grip 
as  he  sat  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  drawing  a  deep 
breath,  as  if  he  were  lifting  a  weight  from  his  life,  he 
said  calmly : 

"Mrs.  Shirley  died  some  time  ago.  Only  one  child 
survived  her  —  a  little  girl  six  years  old.  The  letter 
says  — "  The  letter  fluttered  in  Jim's  trembling  hands. 
"It  says,  'My  little  Leigh  is  just  six.  She  has  been 
taught  to  love  her  uncle  Jim.  .  .  .  Through  the  help  of 
a  friend  here '  —  she  doesn't  give  the  name  — '  I  have  made 
you  her  guardian.  I  want  her  to  go  to  your  home.  Her 
father  will  not  take  any  responsibility,  nor  try  to  keep 
her.  I  know  you  will  not  fail  me.' " 

Jim  folded  the  letter  abruptly.  "It  is  a  dead  woman's 
last  wish.  How  can  I  make  a  home  for  a  little  girl?  What 
shall  I  do?" 

He  looked  at  the  two  men  for  answer.  The  doctor  lifted 
his  hand  to  Pryor  Gaines,  but  the  preacher  waited  awhile 
before  replying.  Then  he  said  thoughtfully: 

"It  is  easy  for  us  two  to  vote  a  duty  on  you,  Shirley. 
I  answer  only  because  you  ask,  not  because  I  would  advise. 
From  my  angle  of  vision,  this  looks  like  your  call  to  serv 
ice.  Your  lonely  fireside  is  waiting  for  a  little  child's 
presence  —  the  child  already  taught  to  love  you.  I  would 
say  send  for  her  at  once." 

"But  how  can  I  send?"  Jim  questioned.     "How  can 


The  Beginning  of  Service  153 

I  do  a  parent's  part  by  her?  I  can  help  a  neighbor  in  need. 
I  can't  bring  up  his  children.  I'm  not  fit  for  that  kind  of 
work.  I've  hung  on  here  for  more  than  a  dozen  years  to 
be  ready  to  help  when  the  time  came,  and  now  the  thing 
seems  impossible." 

"'As  thy  day,  so  shall  thy  strength  be.'  If  you  have 
prepared  yourself  to  do  anything,  you  can  do  it,"  Pryor 
Gaines  assured  him. 

"Well,  how  can  I  send?"  Jim  asked  again.  "There's 
nobody  there  to  bring  her,  and  nobody  here  to  go  after 
her.  It's  an  awfully  long  way  from  here  to  Ohio.  A  lit 
tle  six-year-old  girl  can't  come  alone.  I  couldn't  go  back 
myself.  I  may  be  a  coward,  but  the  Almighty  made  me  as 
I  am.  I  can't  go  back  to  Cloverdale  and  see  only  a  grave 
—  I  can  stay  here  and  remember,  and  maybe  do  a  kind  of 
a  man's  part,  but  I  can't  go  back."  He  bowed  his  head 
and  sat  very  still. 

"You  are  right,  Shirley,"  Pryor  Gaines  spoke  softly 
still.  "Unless  you  were  close  to  the  life  in  its  last  days, 
don't  hang  any  graves  like  dead  weights  of  ineffectual  sor 
row  about  your  neck.  Look  back  to  the  best  memories. 
Look  up  to  the  eternal  joy  no  grave  can  withhold." 

There  was  a  sympathetic  chord  -in  Pryor  Gaines'  voice 
that  spoke  home  to  the  heart,  and  so  long  as  he  lived  in 
the  Grass  River  valley,  he  gave  the  last  service  for  every 
one  who  left  it  for  the  larger  life  beyond  it. 

"  I  will  go  for  you,  Shirley,"  Horace  Carey  said.  "  You 
forget  who  brought  you  this  letter.  That  it  was  sent  to 
me  for  you,  and  that  the  time  to  give  it  to  you  was  left 
until  I  was  notified.  This  friend  of  your  brother's  wife 
is  a  friend  o£«iine.  Let  me  go." 


154  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Horace  Carey,  since  the  night  your  Virginia  regiment 
fed  us  poor  starving  fellows  in  the  old  war  times,  you've 
been  true  blue," 

"Well,  I  wore  the  gray  that  night,  and  I'd  probably 
do  it  again.  I  can't  tell.  It  was  worth  wearing,  if  only  for 
men  to  find  out  how  much  bigger  manhood  and  brotherhood 
are  than  any  issue  of  war  to  be  satisfied  only  by  shedding  of 
innocent  blood,"  Horace  Carey  replied,  glad  to  lift  the 
burden  of  thought  from  Shirley's  mind. 

"  Could  a  sectional  war  ever  have  begun  out  here  on  these 
broad  prairies,  where  men  need  each  other  so?"  Pryor 
Gaines  asked,  following  the  doctor's  lead. 

"  Something  remarkably  like  it  did  make  a  stir  out  here 
once.  Like  it,  only  worse,"  Horace  Carey  answered  with  a 
smile.  "But  the  little  girl,  what's  her  name?  Leigh? 
We'll  have  her  here  for  you.  Your  service  is  only  begin 
ning,  but  think  of  the  comfort  of  such  a  service.  I  envy 
you,  Jim." 

"A  little  child  shall  lead  them,"  Pryor  Gaines  added 
reverently. 

Then  they  fell  to  talking  of  the  coming  of  little  Leigh 
Shirley.  The  hours  of  the  day  slipped  by.  The  breeze 
came  pouring  over  the  prairie  from  the  far  southwest 
where  the  purple  notches  stood  sentinel.  The  warm  after 
noon  sunlight  streamed  in  at  the  door.  The  while  these 
childless  men  planned  together  for  the  welfare  of  one 
motherless,  and  worse  than  fatherless,  little  girl  away  in 
the  Clover  Creek  Valley  in  Ohio,  waiting  for  a  home  and 
guardianship  and  love  under  far  Kansas  skies. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  COMING  or  LOVE 

I  love  the  world  with  all  its  brave  endeavor, 
I  love  its  winds  and  floods,  its  suns  and  sands, 

But,  oh,  I  love  most  deeply  and  forever 
The  clinging  touch  of  timid  little  hands. 

^  I^HE  Ohio  woods  were  gorgeous  with  the  October  col- 
-*•  oring.  The  oak  in  regal  purple  stood  outlined  against 
the  beech  in  cloth-of-gold,  while  green-flecked  hickory 
and  elm,  and  iridescent  silver  and  scarlet  ash,  and  flam 
ing  maple  added  to  the  kaleidoscope  of  splendor. 

The  old  National  pike  road  leading  down  to  Cloverdale 
was  still  flanked  by  little  rail-fenced  fields  that  were  bor 
dered  by  deep  woodlands.  The  old  Aydelot  farmhouse  was 
as  neat  and  white,  with  gardens  and  flower  beds  as  well 
kept,  as  if  only  a  day  had  passed  since  the  master  and 
mistress  thereof  had  gone  out  to  their  last  earthly  home 
in  the  Cloverdale  graveyard. 

Fifteen  years  had  seen  the  frontier  pushed  westward 
with  magic  swiftness.  The  Grass  River  Valley,  once  a  wide 
reach  of  emptiness  and  solitude,  where  only  one  homestead 
stood  a  lone  bulwark  against  the  forces  of  the  wilderness, 
now,  after  a  decade  and  a  half,  beheld  its  prairie  dotted 
with  freeholds,  where  the  foundations  of  homes  were  laid. 

Fifteen  years  marked  little  appreciable  change  in  the 
heritage  given  up  by  Asher  Aydelot  out  of  his  love  for  a 
girl  and  his  dream  of  a  larger  opportunity  in  the  new 

155 


156  Winning  the  Wilderness 

West.  For  fifteen  springtimes  the  old-fashioned  sweet 
pinks  had  blossomed  on  the  two  mounds  where  his  last 
service  had  been  given  to  his  native  estate.  Hardly  a  tree 
had  been  cut  in  the  Aydelot  woods.  The  marshes  in  the 
lower  ground  had  not  been  drained.  The  only  change  in 
the  landscape  was  the  high  grade  of  the  railroad  that  cut 
a  triangle  from  the  northwest  corner  of  the  farm  in  its 
haste  to  reach  Cloverdale  and  be  done  with  it.  The  census 
of  1880,  however,  showed  an  increase  in  ten  years  of 
seventy-five  citizens  in  Clover  County,  and  the  community 
felt  satisfied  with  itself. 

The  afternoon  train  on  the  Cloverdale  branch  was  late 
getting  into  town,  but  the  station  parasites  were  rewarded 
for  their  patience  by  the  sight  of  a  stranger  following  the 
usual  two  or  three  passengers  who  alighted.  Strangers 
were  not  so  common  in  Cloverdale  that  anyone's  face  would 
be  forgotten  under  ten  years  of  time. 

"That's  that  same  feller  that  come  here  ten  year  or 
mebby  twelve  year  ago.  I'd  know  him  in  Guinea,"  one  of 
the  oldest  station  parasites  declared. 

"That's  him,  sure  as  shootin',"  his  comrade-in-laziness 
agreed.  "A  doctor,  don't  you  ricolleck?  Name's  Corrie, 
no,  Craney,  no,  that's  not  it  neither — A-ah!"  trying  hard 
to  think  a  little. 

"Carey.  Don't  you  remember?"  the  first  speaker  broke 
in,  "  Doc  Carey.  They  say  he  doctored  Miss  Jane  in  Phila 
delphia,  an'  got  in  good  with  her,  more'n  a  dozen  years 
ago." 

"  Well,"  drawled  the  second  watcher  of  affairs,  "  if  he 
thinks  he  can  get  anything  out'n  o'  her  by  hangin'  round 
Cloverdale,  he's  barkin'  up  the  wrong  saplin'.  Miss  Jane, 


The  Coming  of  Love  157 

she's  close,  an'  too  set  in  her  ways  now.  She  must  be  nigh 
forty." 

"  That's  right.  But,  I'll  bet  he's  goin'  there  now.  Let's 
see." 

The  two  moved  to  the  end  of  the  station,  from  which 
strategic  point  both  the  main  street,  the  National  pike 
road,  of  course,  and  the  new  street  running  "cat-i-cor- 
nered"  from  the  station  to  the  creek  bridge  could  be 
commanded. 

"Darned  fool!  is  what  he  is!  hikin'  straight  as  a 
plumbline  fur  the  crick.  If  he  was  worth  it,  I'd  foller 
him." 

"  Oh,  the  ornery  pup  will  be  back  all  right.  Lazy  fellers 
waitin'  to  marry  rich  old  maids  ain't  worth  f  ollerin'.  Darn 
'em!  Slick  skeezicks,  tryin'  to  git  rich  jes'  doin'  nothin'." 

So  the  two  citizens  agreed  while  they  consigned  a  per 
fect  stranger  to  a  mild  purgatory.  His  brisk  wholesome- 
ness  offended  them,  and  the  narrowness  of  their  own  daily 
lives  bred  prejudice  as  the  marshes  breed  mosquitoes. 

Dr.  Carey  walked  away  with  springing  step.  He  was 
glad  to  be  at  his  journey's  end;  glad  to  be  off  the  slow 
little  train,  and  glad  to  see  again  the  October  woods  of  the 
Alleghany  foothills.  To  the  eastern-bred  man,  nothing  in 
the  grandeur  of  the  prairie  landscape  can  quite  meet  the 
craving  for  the  autumn  beauty  of  the  eastern  forests.  The 
slanting  rays  of  the  late  afternoon  sun  fell  athwart  the 
radiant  foliage  of  the  woods  as  Dr.  Carey's  way  led  him 
between  the  two  lines  of  flaming  glory.  When  he  had 
cleared  the  creek  valley,  his  pace  slackened.  Something 
of  the  old  boyhood  joy  of  living,  something  of  the  sorrow 
ful-sweet  memory,  the  tender  grace  of  a  day  that  is  dead, 


158  Winning  the  Wilderness 

but  will  never  be  forgotten,  came  with  the  pensive  autumn 
mood  of  Nature  to  make  the  day  sweet  to  the  pensive 
mind. 

Jane  Aydelot  sat  on  the  veranda  of  the  Aydelot  home, 
looking  eagerly  toward  Cloverdale,  when  she  discovered  Dr. 
Carey  coming  leisurely  up  the  road.  She  was  nearly 
forty  years  old,  as  the  railroad  station  loafers  had  declared, 
but  there  was  nothing  about  her  to  indicate  the  "  old  maid, 
set  in  her  ways."  She  might  have  passed  for  Asher's  sis 
ter,  for  she  had  a  certain  erect  bearing  and  strong  resem 
blance  of  feature.  All  single  women  were  called  old  maids 
at  twenty-five  in  those  days.  Else  this  fair-faced  woman 
with  clear  gray  eyes  and  pink  cheeks,  and  scarce  a  hint  of 
white  in  her  abundant  brown  hair,  would  not  have  been 
considered  in  the  then  ridiculed  class.  There  was  a  mixture 
of  resoluteness  and  of  timidity  in  the  expression  of  her 
face  betokening  a  character  at  once  determined  of  will  but 
shrinking  in  action.  And  withal,  she  was  daintily  neat  and 
well  kept,  like  her  neat  and  well-kept  farm  and  home. 

As  Dr.  Carey  passed  up  the  flower-bordered  walk,  she 
arose  to  greet  him.  If  there  was  a  look  of  glad  expec 
tancy  in  her  eyes,  the  doctor  did  not  notice  it,  for  the  whole 
setting  of  the  scene  was  peacefully  lovely,  and  the  fresh- 
cheeked,  white-handed  woman  was  a  joy  to  see.  Some 
quick  remembrance  of  the  brown-handed  claimholders'  wives 
crossed  his  mind  at  that  instant,  and  like  a  cruel  stab  to 
his  memory  came  unbidden  the  picture  of  Virginia  Thaine 
in  her  dainty  girlishness  in  the  old  mansion  house  of  the 
years  now  dead.  Was  he  to  blame  that  the  contrast  between 
Asher  Aydelot's  wife,  now  of  Kansas,  and  Jane  Aydelot  of 
Ohio  should  throw  the  favor  toward  the  latter,  that  he 


The  Coming  of  Love  159 

should  forget  for  the  moment  what  the  women  of  the  fron 
tier  must  sacrifice  in  the  winning  of  the  wilderness? 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  Doctor,"  Jane  Aydelot 
said  in  cordial  greeting. 

"  This  is  a  very  great  pleasure  to  me,  I  assure  you,  Miss 
Aydelot,"  Horace  Carey  replied,  grasping  her  hand. 

Inside  the  house  everything  was  as  well  appointed  as 
the  outside  suggested.  As  the  doctor  was  making  himself 
more  presentable  after  his  long  journey,  he  realized  that 
the  pretty,  old-fashioned  bedroom  had  evidently  been  a 
boy's  room  once,  Asher  Aydelot's  room.  And  with  a 
woman's  loving  sentiment,  neither  Asher's  mother  nor  the 
present  owner  had  changed  it  at  all.  The  petals  of  a  pink 
rose  of  the  wallpaper  by  the  old-styled  dresser  were  written 
over  in  a  boyish  hand  and  the  doctor  read  the  names  of 
"Jim  and  Alice,"  and  "Asher  and  Nell." 

"  Old  sweethearts  of  '  the  Kerry  Dancing '  days,"  he 
thought  to  himself. 

From  the  open  window  he  looked  out  upon  the  magnifi 
cence  of  the  autumn  forests  and  saw  the  white  pike  road 
leading  down  to  Clover  Creek  and  the  church  spires  and 
courthouse  tower  above  the  trees. 

"The  heir  to  all  this  comfort  and  beauty  gave  it  up 
because  he  didn't  want  to  be  a  tavern-keeper  here,  and 
because  he  did  want  a  girl  —  Virginia!"  Horace  Carey 
said  the  name  softly.  "I  know  what  her  jessamine-draped 
window  looked  out  upon.  I  hardly  realized  when  I  was  here 
before  what  Asher's  early  home  had  been.  Yet  those  two 
for  love  of  each  other  are  building  their  lives  into  the  life 
of  their  chosen  State.  It  is  the  tiller  of  the  soil  who  must 
make  the  West.  But  how  many  times  in  the  lonely  days 


160  Winning  the  Wilderness 

in  that  little  sod  cabin  must  they  have  remembered  their 
childhood  homes!  How  many  times  when  the  hot  fall 
winds  swept  across  the  dead  brown  prairie  have  their  mem 
ories  turned  to  the  beauty  of  the  October  days  here  in  the 
East!  Oh,  well,  the  heroes  weren't  all  killed  at  Lexington 
and  Bunker  Hill,  nor  at  Bull  Run  and  Gettysburg.  Some 
of  them  got  away,  and  with  heroic  wives  went  out  to  con 
quer  the  plains  from  the  harsh  rule  of  Nature  there." 

When  the  doctor  went  downstairs  again,  a  little  girl  met 
him,  saying,  "Miss  Jane  says  you  may  sit  in  the  parlor, 
or  out  on  the  meranda,  till  supper  is  ready." 

"How  pleasant!  Won't  you  come  and  sit  with  me?" 
Doctor  Carey  replied. 

"  I  must  put  the  —  the  lap-robes  on  the  tables  to  every 
body's  plate,  and  the  knives  and  forks  and  poons.  Nen  I'll 
come,"  she  answered. 

Carey  sat  on  the  veranda  enjoying  the  minutes  and  wait 
ing  for  the  little  girl. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  he  asked  when  she  appeared,  and 
climbed  into  Miss  Jane's  vacant  chair. 

"Leigh  Shirley.    What's  yours?" 

"Horace  Carey." 

The  doctor  could  not  keep  from  smiling  as  he  looked  at 
her.  She  was  so  little  and  pretty,  with  yellow  hair,  big 
blue  eyes,  china-doll  cheeks,  and  with  all  the  repose  of  man 
ner  that  only  childhood  and  innocence  can  bestow. 

"I  think  I  like  you,  Horace,"  Leigh  said  frankly,  after 
carefully  looking  Carey  over. 

"Then,  we'll  be  friends,"  he  declared. 

"Not  for  so  mery  long."  Leigh  could  not  master  the 
V  of  the  alphabet  yet.  "'Cause  I'm  going  away  pretty 


The  Coming  of  Love  161 

soon,  Miss  Jane  say.  You  know  my  mamma's  dead."  The 
little  face  was  very  grave  now.  "  And  my  Uncle  Jim  out 
in  Kansas  wants  me.  I'm  going  to  him." 

Even  in  her  innocence,  Doctor  Carey  noted  the  very 
definite  tone  and  clear  trend  of  the  young  mind. 

"Miss  Jane  loves  me  and  I  love  her,"  Leigh  explained 
further.  "Don't  you  love  Miss  Jane,  Horace?" 

"  Certainly,"  Carey  said,  with  some  hesitancy. 

"  I'll  tell  her  so.  She  will  love  you,  too.  She  is  mery 
sweet,"  Leigh  assured  him.  "Where  are  you  going  to?" 

"  I'm  going  back  to  Kansas  soon." 

"Wim  me?" 

"  I  should  like  to,     Let's  go  together." 

Leigh  slid  quickly  from  the  chair  and  ran  inside,  where 
Doctor  Carey  heard  her  clear  childish  voice  saying,  "  He 
is  going  to  Kansas,  too,  Miss  Jane.  He  says  he  loves 
you.  His  name  is  Horace,  and  he's  mery  nice.  He's 
not  mery  pretty,  though,  but  you  love  him,  too,  don't  you, 
Miss  Jane?" 

Evidently  the  child  was  close  to  Miss  Jane,  for  the  doc 
tor  heard  something  like  a  kiss  and  low  words  that  seemed 
to  send  her  away  on  some  errand.  Presently  he  caught 
sight  of  a  sunny  head  and  two  big  blue  eyes  and  a  little 
hand  beckoning  to  him,  as  Leigh  peeped  around  the  corner 
of  the  house. 

"Miss  Jane  says  I  mustn't  talk  too  much  and  mustn't 
call  you  Horace,  but  just  Doctor  Carey.  Won't  you  come 
with  me  to  get  flowers  for  supper?" 

The  two  strolled  together  into  the  old  flower  garden 
where  verbenas  and  phlox  and  late  asters  and  early  chrys 
anthemums  and  a  few  monthly  roses  under  Miss  Jane's  care- 


162 Winning  the  Wilderness 

ful  covering  had  weathered  the  first  frosts.     Leigh  knew 

each  plant  and  shrub,  and  gave  out  information  freely. 
"Would  you  rather  stay  with  Miss  Jane?" 
Doctor  Carey  knew  he  should  not  ask  the  question,  but 

it  came  anyhow. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  want  to  go  to  my  Uncle  Jim."    Leigh  settled 

the  matter  once  for  all. 

That  night  Leigh  fell  asleep  early,  for  Miss  Jane  was 
methodical  with  children.  Then  she  and  Doctor  Carey  sat 
until  late  by  the  open  wood  fire  and  talked  of  many  things, 
but  first  of  Leigh  and  her  future. 

"You  will  miss  her,  I'm  sure,"  the  doctor  said. 

"More  than  anyone  will  know,"  Miss  Jane  replied. 
"  But  I  could  not  be  happy  without  fulfilling  my  promise. 
I  wrote  you  to  come  soon  because  each  day  makes  the 
giving  up  a  little  harder  for  me.  But  I  must  know  the 
truth  about  this  Uncle  Jim.  I  cannot  send  Leigh  out  of 
my  house  to  be  neglected  and  unloved.  She  demands  love 
above  all  things." 

The  pink  color  deepened  in  Miss  Jane's  fair  cheek  as  she 
recalled  what  Leigh  had  said  to  Doctor  Carey  about  loving 
her.  The  doctor  remembered  also,  and  knew  why  she 
blushed.  Yet  blushes,  he  thought,  were  becoming  to  her. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  of  Mr.  Shirley.  We  have  been 
friends  for  many  years,"  he  said. 

Then  as  truthfully  as  possible  he  told  her  of  the  life 
and  mind  of  the  lonely  loving  plainsman.  When  he  had 
finished,  Miss  Jane  sat  awhile  in  silent  thought. 

"It  is  right  that  you  should  know  something  of  condi 
tions  here,  Doctor,"  she  said  at  last.  "The  older  Shir- 


The  Coming  of  Love  163 

leys  are  dead.  Tank's  life  hastened  the  end  for  them,  the 
Cloverdale  gossips  say.  And  as  I  have  owned  the  *Shirley 
House  for  several  years,  I  came  to  know  them  well,  and  I 
do  not  think  the  gossips  were  far  out  of  the  way." 

"What  of  Tank's  life? "  Doctor  Carey  asked.  " I  have 
some  personal  reasons  for  asking." 

Miss  Jane  looked  up  quickly.  She  was  a  pretty  woman, 
and  a  keenly  intelligent  one  as  well.  To  Horace  Carey, 
she  seemed  most  charming  at  that  moment. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  of  Alice  first,"  she  said.  "  You  know, 
of  course,  that  she  loved  Jim.  They  were  just  suited  to 
each  other.  But  her  mother  and  Tank's  mother  planned 
otherwise.  Alice  was  submissive.  Tank  was  greedy.  He 
wanted  the  old  Leigh  farm.  And  envious,  for  he  seemed  to 
hate  Jim  always.  It  grew  to  be  the  passion  of  his  life  to 
want  to  take  whatever  Jim  had.  His  mother  hated  Jim 
before  he  was  born.  It  was  his  pre-natal  heritage,  combined 
with  a  selfish  nature.  There  was  misrepresentation  and 
deception  enough  to  make  a  plot  for  a  novel ;  a  misunder 
standing  and  brief  estrangement,  separating  Jim  and  Alice 
forever — all  managed  by  Tank  and  his  mother,  for  the 
farm  first,  and  the  downfall  of  Jim  second.  They  took  no 
account  of  Alice,  who  must  be  the  greatest  loser.  And  after 
they  were  married,  both  mothers-in-law  were  disappointed, 
for  the  Leigh  farm  was  heavily  incumbered  and  sold  by  the 
sheriff  the  same  fall,  and  the  Shirley  House  fell  into  Uncle 
Francis  Aydelot's  hands  in  about  the  same  way.  Love  of 
property  can  be  the  root  of  much  misery."  Miss  Jane 
paused,  for  the  story  brought  bitterness  to  her  kindly  soul. 

"It  is  ended  now,"  Horace  Carey  said  gently.  "It  is 
well  that  it  is,  I  am  sure." 


164  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Yes,  Alice  rests  now  beside  her  two  little  ones  who  went 
before  her.  She  had  no  sorrow  in  going,  except  for  Leigh. 
And"- 

"And  you  lifted  that,  I  know."  Doctor  Carey  finished 
the  sentence. 

"  I  tried  to,"  Miss  Jane  said,  struggling  between  timidity 
and  truthfulness.  "  I  made  her  last  hours  peaceful,  for 
she  knew  Leigh  would  be  cared  for  and  safe.  I  saw  to  that. 
Tank  Shirley  is  bound  to  a  surrender  of  all  legal  claim  to 
her.  It  was  left  to  Jim  to  take  her,  if  he  chose.  If  not, 
she  belongs  to  me.  She  is  a  strange  child,  wise  beyond  her 
years,  with  a  sort  of  power  already  for  not  telling  all  she 
knows.  You  can  rely  on  her  in  almost  anything.  She  will 
make  a  strong  woman  some  day." 

Doctor  Carey  read  the  loving  sacrifice  back  of  the  words, 
and  his  heart  warmed  toward  this  sweet-spirited,  childless 
woman. 

"  Jim  wants  her,  else  I  could  not  have  come,"  he  said 
gently,  "but  you  can  come  to  Grass  River  to  see  her 
sometimes." 

"  Oh,  no,  it  is  so  far,"  Jane  Aydelot  said,  and  Carey  real 
ized  in  how  small  an  orbit  her  life  revolved. 

"  But  she  does  good  in  it.  What  does  distance  count 
against  that?"  he  thought  to  himself.  Aloud  he  said: 

"  Tell  me  of  Tank,  Miss  Aydelot." 

"  He  has  run  his  course  here,  but  he  is  shrewd  enough  to 
escape  the  law.  His  parents  mortgaged  the  Shirley  House 
to  get  money  to  keep  his  doings  quiet.  My  Uncle  Francis 
foreclosed  on  them  at  last.  But  by  Jim's  abrupt  leaving, 
Cloverdale  blamed  him  for  a  long  time  for  the  family  mis 
fortunes.  Tank  broke  every  moral  law;  he  invested  his 


The  Coming  of  Love  165 

money  wildly  in  his  greed  to  make  more  money,  until  finally 
the  bank  failure  came.  That  is  a  long  story,  and  it  was  a 
dead  loss.  But  the  cashier's  suicide  stopped  investigation. 
All  blame  was  laid  on  him.  And  he,  being  dead,  made  no 
complaint  and  incriminated  nobody." 

"Where  is  Tank  now?"  Carey  asked. 

He  did  not  know  why  the  image  of  Thomas  Smith  of 
Wilmington,  Delaware,  should  come  unbidden  to  his  mind 
just  now,  nor  why  he  should  feel  that  the  answer  to  his 
question  held  only  a  portion  of  what  could  have  been  told 
him  then. 

"Nobody  knows  exactly  where,"  Jane  Aydelot  replied. 
"He  left  his  wife  penniless.  She  lived  here  with  me  and 
died  here.  Tank  has  n't  been  seen  in  Cloverdale  for  a  long 
time.  It  is  strange  how  family  ties  get  warped  sometimes. 
And  oftenest  over  property." 

Doctor  Carey  thought  of  Asher,  and  was  silent.  But 
Jane  Aydelot  divined  his  thought. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  our  own  family,"  she  said,  looking 
into  the  heart  of  the  wood  fire.  "  I  have  my  cousin  Asher's 
heritage,  which  by  law  now  neither  he  nor  any  child  of  his 
can  receive  from  me." 

"Miss  Aydelot,  he  doesn't  want  it.  And  there  is  no 
prejudice  in  him  against  you  at  all.  Moreover,  if  his 
dreams  come  true,  little  Thaine  Aydelot  will  never  need  it." 
There  was  a  sternness  in  Carey's  voice  that  pained  his 
hostess. 

"But,  Doctor  Carey!"  she  began  hesitatingly.  Then, 
as  if  to  change  the  trend  of  thought,  she  added  simply, 
"  I  try  to  use  it  well." 

Horace   Carey   was  by   nature   and   experience   a   keen 


166  Winning  the  Wilderness 

reader  of  human  minds.  As  Jane  Aydelot  studied  the  burn 
ing  coals  in  the  grate,  he  studied  her  face,  and  what  he  read 
there  gave  him  both  pleasure  and  pain.  Between  him  and 
that  face  came  the  image  of  Virginia  Aydelot,  who  should 
be  there  instead;  of  the  brown-handed  farmer's  wife,  who 
had  given  up  so  much  for  the  West.  And  yet,  that  face, 
framed  in  its  dark  hair,  lighted  by  luminous  dark  eyes, 
seemed  to  blot  out  the  dainty  pink  and  white  Jane  Aydelot. 
A  strength  of  will,  a  view  of  life  at  wide  angles  of  vision, 
a  resourcefulness  and  power  of  sacrifice  seemed  to  deify  the 
plainly  clad  prairie  home-maker,  winning,  not  inheriting, 
her  possessions.  Had  Jane  been  anywhere  else  save  in  the 
home  that  Virginia  might  have  had,  her  future  might  have 
had  another  story.  But  why  forecast  the  might-have- 
been  ? 

"You  do  use  your  property  well,  I  am  sure,"  Doctor 
Carey  said,  replying  to  the  last  words  spoken  between  them, 
"and  yet,  you  would  give  it  up?"  He  knew  her  answer, 
or  he  would  not  have  asked  the  question. 

For  reply,  she  rose  and  went  to  the  little  writing  desk 
where  the  Aydelot  papers  were  kept.  Taking  therefrom 
two  documents,  she  placed  them  in  Carey's  hands. 

"  Read  these,"  she  said,  "  then  promise  me  that  in  the 
hour  when  Leigh  needs  my  help  you  will  let  me  help 
her." 

They  were  the  will  of  Francis  Aydelot  and  her  own  will. 
How  much  of  sacrifice  lay  in  that  act  of  hers,  only  Horace 
Carey  could  understand. 

"I  promise  gladly,  Miss  Aydelot.  I  see  why  you  are 
willing  to  give  up  little  Leigh  now,"  he  said,  looking  up 
with  eyes  filled  with  sincerest  admiration.  "  You  are  a  won- 


'Read  these,"  she  said,  ''then  promise  me  that  in  the  hour  when 
Leigh  needs  my  help  you  will  let  me  help  her" 


The  Coming  of  Love  167 

derful  woman.  You  have  the  same  Aydelot  heritage  of 
endurance  and  patience  and  the  large  view  of  duty  that 
characterizes  your  cousin  Asher.  Your  setting  is  different. 
I  hope  the  time  may  come  soon  when  Ohio  and  Kansas  will 
not  be  so  far  apart  as  they  are  tonight." 

He  rose  and  took  her  hand  in  his. 

If  Doctor  Carey's  magnetism  made  men  admire  him,  it 
was  no  less  an  attractive  force  with  women.  As  he  looked 
into  Jane  Aydelot's  gray  eyes,  he  saw  a  new  light  there. 
And  swiftly  its  meaning  translated  itself  to  him.  He 
dropped  her  hand  and  turned  away,  and  when  their  eyes 
met  again,  the  light  was  gone. 

It  was  still  Indian-Summer  weather  on  the  prairie  when 
Doctor  Carey  with  little  Leigh  Shirley  reached  Careyville. 
He  had  a  feeling  that  Jim  would  prefer  meeting  Leigh  in 
his  own  home,  so  no  word  had  been  sent  forward  as  to 
the  time  of  the  coming  of  the  two. 

All  through  the  journey,  the  doctor  had  wondered  how 
Jane  Aydelot  could  have  given  Leigh  up  at  all.  She  was 
such  a  happy  prattler,  such  an  honest,  straightforward 
little  body,  such  an  innocent  child,  and,  withal,  so  loving 
that  Carey  lost  his  own  heart  before  the  first  half  day  was 
ended.  In  her  little  gray  wool  gown  and  her  gray  cap  with 
its  scarlet  quill  above  her  golden  hair,  she  was  as  dainty 
and  pretty  as  a  picture  of  childhood  could  be. 

Down  on  the  Grass  River  trail,  the  two  came  upon  Thaine 
Aydelot  trudging  in  from  some  errand  to  a  distant  neigh 
bor,  and  the  doctor  hailed  him  at  once. 

"Come,  ride  with  us.  We'll  take  you  home,"  he  said, 
turning  the  wheel  for  Thaine's  convenience.  "This  is 


168  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Leigh  Shirley,  who  is  coming  to  live  with  her  uncle,  Jim. 
You'll  like  to  go  to  the  Cloverdale  Ranch  more  than  ever 
now." 

Thaine  was  only  a  little  country  boy,  unused  to  conven 
tionalities,  so  he  took  Leigh  on  her  face  value  at  once. 
And  Leigh,  honest  as  she  was  innocent,  returned  the  com 
pliment.  At  the  Sunflower  Ranch,  Carey  drew  rein  to  let 
Thaine  leave  them.  Leigh,  putting  both  arms  about  the 
little  boy's  neck,  kissed  him  good-by,  saying:  "I  have 
known  you  always  because  you  are  the  Thaine"  —she 
caught  her  breath,  and  added:  "You  must  come  to  my 
uncle  Jim's  and  see  me." 

"  I  will,  I  will,"  Thaine  assured  her. 

Doctor  Carey  looked  back  to  wave  good-by  just  in  time 
to  see  Virginia  Aydelot  coming  toward  Thaine,  who  stood 
watching  the  buggy.  Instantly  the  pretty  face  of  Jane 
Aydelot  came  to  his  mind,  her  face  as  she  had  looked  on  the 
night  when  they  sat  by  the  wood  fire  in  the  Aydelot  farm 
house.  Against  that  picture  stood  the  reality  of  Virginia 
with  her  richer  coloring. 

"Nor  storm  nor  stress  can  rob  her  of  her  beauty,"  he 
thought.  "  However  sweet  and  self-sacrificing  Jane  A}^de- 
lot  may  be,  the  Plains  would  have  broken  her  long  ago." 

He  turned  about  at  once  and  came  back  to  where  Thaine 
stood  beside  his  mother. 

"  This  is  Jim  Shirley's  little  girl,  Mrs.  Aydelot,"  he  said, 
gently  patting  Leigh's  shoulder. 

"That's  my  wife,"  little  Thaine  said  gravely.  "We 
will  go  and  live  at  the  purple  notches  when  I  come  home 
from  the  war." 

Virginia's  heart  warmed  toward  the  motherless  little  one, 


The  Coming  of  Love  169 

and  Leigh  understood  her  at  once.  Nor  once  in  all  the 
years  that  followed  did  the  two  fail  each  other. 

The  Cloverdale  homestead  never  had  known  such  a  gala 
fixing  as  Jim  Shirley  had  kept  there  for  nearly  a  week 
awaiting  the  doctor's  return.  Truly,  love  is  genius  in 
itself,  and  only  genius  could  have  put  so  many  quaint  and 
attractive  touches  to  such  common  surroundings  as  now 
embellished  the  little  four-roomed  house  in  the  bend  of 
Grass  River. 

Doctor  Carey  tied  his  horses  to  the  post  beside  the  trail, 
and,  lifting  Leigh  from  the  buggy,  he  said: 

"  Uncle  Jim  is  up  there  waiting  for  you,  and  oh,  so 
glad,  so  glad  to  have  you  come.  Go  and  meet  him,  Leigh." 

Leigh  smoothed  her  little  gray  wool  frock  down  with 
her  dainty  little  hands.  Then,  pushing  back  the  gray  cap 
with  its  scarlet  quill  from  her  forehead  where  the  golden 
hair  fell  in  soft  rings,  she  passed  up  the  grassy  way  to 
meet  Jim  Shirley.  He  could  never  have  looked  bigger 
and  handsomer  than  he  did  at  that  moment.  In  his  eyes 
all  the  heart  hunger  of  years  seemed  centered  as  he  watched 
the  little  six-year-old  child  coming  towards  him. 

Just  before  reaching  the  doorway,  she  paused,  and  with 
that  clear  penetration  only  a  little  child  possesses,  she  looked 
up  into  the  strong  man's  face. 

"  Uncle  Jim.  My  Uncle  Jim,"  she  cried.  "  I  can  love 
you  always." 

Jim  gathered  her  close  in  his  arms,  and  she  clung  about 
his  neck,  softly  patting  his  brown  cheek  as  they  passed  into 
the  house.  While  all  unseen,  the  light  of  love  went  in 
with  them,  a  light  that  should  never  fade  from  the  hearth 
stone,  driving  loneliness  and  sorrow  from  it,  far  away. 


170  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Leigh  Shirley's  coming  marked  an  epoch  in  the  annals 
of  the  Grass  River  settlement,  for  her  uncle  often  declared 
that  he  could  remember  only  two  events  in  the  West  before 
that  time :  the  coming  of  Mrs.  Aydelot  and  the  grasshopper 
raid.  With  Leigh  in  his  home,  he  almost  forgot  that  he 
had  ever  been  sad-hearted.  This  loving  little  child  was 
such  a  constant  source  of  interest  and  surprise.  She  was 
so  innocently  plain-spoken  and  self-dependent  sometimes, 
and  such  a  strange  little  dreamer  of  dreams  at  other  times. 
She  would  drive  a  shrewd  bargain  for  whatever  she  wrantcd 
—  some  more  of  Uncle  Jim's  good  cookies,  or  a  ride  all  alone 
on  the  biggest  pony,  or  a  two-days'  visit  at  the  Aydelot 
ranch,  scrupulously  rendering  back  value  received  of  her 
own  wares  —  kisses,  or  washing  all  the  supper  dishes  for  her 
tired  uncle,  or  staying  away  from  her  play  to  watch  that 
the  chickens  did  not  scratch  in  the  garden. 

But  there  were  times  when  she  would  go  alone  to  the 
bend  in  the  river  and  people  her  world  with  folk  of  her  own 
creation  and  live  with  them  and  for  them.  Chief  among 
them  all  was  a  certain  Prince  Quippi,  who  would  come  from 
China  some  day  to  marry  her  and  take  her  away  to  a  house 
made  of  purple  velvet  and  adorned  with  gold  knobs.  She 
had  to  send  a  letter  to  Prince  Quippi  every  day  or  he 
would  think  she  did  not  love  him.  Of  course,  she  loved 
Uncle  Jim  best  of  what  she  called  folks  —  but  Prince 
Quippi  was  big  and  brown  and  handsome ;  and,  strangely 
enough,  the  only  kind  of  letter  he  could  read  from  her  was 
in  a  flower. 

So  Leigh  dropped  a  flower  on  the  waters  of  Grass  River 
every  day  to  float  away  to  China  telling  her  love  to  Prince 
Quippi.  And  oftenest  it  was  the  tawny  sunflower,  because  it 


The  Coming  of  Love  171 

was  big  and  strong  and  could  tell  a  big  love  story.  Thus 
she  dreamed  her  happy  dreams  until  one  day  Thaine 
Aydelot,  listening  to  her,  said: 

"Why  my  papa  sent  my  mamma  a  sunflower  once,  and 
made  her  love  him  very  much.  I'll  be  your  real  Prince 
Quippi —  not  a  —  a  paper-doll,  thinkish  one,  and  come 
after  you." 

"  Clear  from  China  ?  "  Leigh  queried. 

"  Yes,  when  I'm  a  big  soldier  like  my  papa,  and  we'll  go 
off  to  the  purple  notches  and  live." 

"  You  don't  look  like  my  Prince  Quippi,"  Leigh  insisted. 

"But  I  can  grow  to  look  like  any  thing  I  want  to  —  like 
a  big  elephant  or  a  hippopopamus  or  a  —  angel,  or  any 
thing"  Thaine  assured  her. 

"Well,  escuse  me  from  any  of  the  free  —  a  angel  or  a 
elephant.  I  don't  know  what  the  poppy  one  is,  but  it's 
too  poppy,"  Leigh  said  decisively. 

There  were  others  in  the  Grass  River  settlement  who 
would  have  envied  the  mythical  Prince  Quippi  also.  For 
even  at  six  years  of  age  Leigh  had  the  same  quality  that 
marked  her  uncle.  People  must  love  her  if  they  cared  for 
her  at  all ;  and  they  couldn't  help  caring  for  her.  She  fitted 
into  the  life  of  the  prairie,  too,  as  naturally  as  Thaine 
Aydelot  did,  who  was  born  to  it.  The  baby  gold  was  soon 
lost  from  her  hair  for  the  brown-gold  like  the  shimmering 
sunlight  on  the  brown  prairie.  The  baby  blue  eyes  deep 
ened  to  the  deep  violet-blue  of  overhead  skies  in  June.  The 
pretty  pink  and  white  complexion,  however,  did  not 
grow  brown  under  the  kisses  of  the  prairie  winds.  The 
delicate  china-doll  tinting  went  with  other  baby  features, 
but,  save  for  the  few  little  brown  freckles  in  mid-summer, 


172  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Leigh  Shirley  kept  year  after  year  the  clear  complexion 
with  the  peach  blossom  pink  on  her  cheeks  that  only  rarely 
the  young  girls  of  the  dry  western  plains  possessed  in  those 
days  of  shadeless  homes. 

Thaine  Aydelot  looked  like  a  gypsy  beside  her,  he  was 
so  brown,  and  his  big  dark  eyes  and  heavy  mane  of  dark 
hair,  and  ruddy  cheeks  made  the  contrast  striking.  From 
the  first  day  of  their  meeting,  the  children  were  playmates 
and  companions  as  often  as  opportunity  offered.  They 
sat  together  in  the  Grass  River  Sabbath  School;  they  ex 
changed  days  on  days  of  visits,  and  the  first  sorrow  of  their 
hitherto  unclouded  lives  came  when  they  found  that  Leigh 
was  too  far  away  to  attend  the  week-day  school. 

Settlers  were  filling  up  the  valley  rapidly,  but  they  all 
wanted  ranches,  and  ranches  do  not  make  close  neighbors. 
Land-lust  sometimes  overshadows  the  divine  rights  of  chil 
dren.  And  the  lower  part  of  the  settlement  was  not  yet 
equal  to  the  support  of  a  school  of  its  own. 

The  two  families  still  kept  the  custom  of  spending  their 
Sabbaths  together.  And  one  Sabbath  Thaine  showed  Leigh 
the  books  and  slate  and  sponge  and  pencils  he  was  to  take 
to  school  the  next  week.  Leigh,  who  had  been  pleased 
with  all  of  them,  turned  to  her  guardian,  saying  gravely: 

"Uncle  Jim,  can  I  go  to  school  wif  Thaine?" 

"You  must  meet  that  question  every  day  now,  Jim," 
Asher  said.  "  Why  not  answer  it  and  be  rid  of  it  ?  " 

"How  can  I  answer  it?"  Jim  queried. 

"Virgie,  help  us  with  this  educational  problem  of  the 
State,"  Asher  turned  to  his  wife.  "  Women  are  especially 
resourceful  in  these  things,  Jim.  I  hope  Kansas  will  fully 
recognize  the  fact  some  day." 


The  Coming  of  Love  173 

"  Who  is  Kansas  ?  "  Virginia  asked  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  all  of  us  men  who  depend  so  much  on  some  woman's 
brain  every  day  of  our  lives,"  Jim  assured  her.  "  Tell  me, 
what  to  do  for  my  little  girl.  Mrs.  Bennington  and  some  of 
the  other  neighbors  say  I  should  send  her  East  for  her 
sake  —  " 

"  And  for  both  of  your  sakes,  Jim,  I  say,  no,"  Virginia 
broke  in.  "The  way  must  open  for  all  of  our  children 
here.  It  always  has  for  everything  else,  you  know." 

"Thaine  can  walk  the  two  miles.  He's  made  of  iron, 
anyhow.  But  Leigh  can't  make  the  five  miles  '  up  stream,' v 
Asher  declared. 

"Jim,"  Virginia  Aydelot  said  gravely,  "Pryor  Gaines 
will  be  our  teacher  for  many  years,  we  hope,  but  he  is 
hardly  equal  to  tilling  his  ground  now.  John  Jacobs  holds 
the  mortgage  on  his  claim  still  that  he  put  there  after  the 
grasshopper  loan,  which  he  could  not  pay.  Life  is  an 
up-hill  pull  for  him,  and  he  bears  his  burdens  so  cheerfully. 
I  believe  Mr.  Jacobs  would  take  the  claim  and  pay  him  the 
equity.  We  all  know  how  unlike  a  Shylock  John  Jacobs 
really  is,  even  if  he  is  getting  rich  fast.  Now,  Jim,  why 
not  take  Pryor  into  your  home  and  let  him  drive  up  to 
the  school  with  Leigh  and  the  other  little  folks  down  your 
way.  We  can  pay  him  better  wages  and  he  will  have  a  real 
home,  not  a  lonely  cabin  by  himself,  and  you  will  be  for 
tunate  in  having  such  a  man  in  your  household." 

"  Just  the  thing,  Virginia,"  Jim  declared.  "  Why  haven't 
we  done  it  before?  He  always  says  I'm  his  heart  and  he's 
my  lungs.  We  might  stack  up  to  a  one-man  power.  Old 
bachelors  should  be  segregated,  anyhow,  out  here.  The 
West  needs  more  families.  And  think  what  Pryor  Games' 


174  Winning  the  Wilderness 

cultivated  mind  will  mean  to  a  little  artist  soul  like  Leigh 
Shirley's.  Glorious ! " 

"Well,  Virgie,  if  you  will  also  segregate  John  Jacobs 
and  Dr.  Carey,  we'll  settle  the  bachelors  once  for  all.  A 
quartette  of  royal  good  fellows,  too,  State-makers  who 
really  make.  They  ought  to  be  in  the  legislature,  but 
Carey  and  Pry  or  are  democrats  and  Jim  and  Jacobs  are 
republican.  They  balance  too  well  for  the  interests  of  any 
party.  Anyhow,  if  Pryor  agrees,  the  school  problem  is 
fixed,"  Asher  asserted. 

Pryor  Gaines  did  agree,  to  the  welfare  of  many  children, 
who  remember  him  still  with  that  deep-seated  affection  of 
student  for  teacher  unlike  any  other  form  of  human  devo 
tion.  But  especially  did  this  cultured  man  put  into  Leigh 
Shirley's  life  a  refining  artistic  power  that  stood  her  well  in 
the  years  to  come. 


CHAPTER  XI 

LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS 

They  saw  not  the  shadow  that  walked  beside, 
They  heard  not  the  feet  with  silence  shod. 

— WHITTIER. 

WITH  successive  seasons  of  good  crops,  combining 
with  the  time  of  the  crest  between  two  eras  of  finan 
cial  depression,  and  with  Eastern  capital  easy  to  reach,  a 
mania  of  speculation  known  as  "the  boom"  burst  forth; 
a  mania  that  swept  men's  minds  as  prairie  fires  sweep  along 
the  wide  lengths  of  the  plains,  changing  both  the  face  of 
the  land  and  the  fortunes  of  the  land  owners,  and  marking 
an  epoch  in  the  story  of  the  West.  New  counties  were 
organized  out  of  the  still  unoccupied  frontier.  Thousands 
of  citizens  poured  into  these  counties.  Scores  of  towns 
were  chartered  and  hundreds  of  miles  of  railroad  were  con 
structed.  Colleges  and  universities  sprouted  up  from  the 
virgin  soil  of  the  prairie.  Loans  on  real  estate  were  easy 
to  secure.  Land,  especially  in  town  lots,  took  on  an  enor 
mously  inflated  valuation  and  the  rapid  investment  in  real 
estate  and  the  rapid  transference  from  buyer  to  seller  was 
bewildering,  while  voting  bonds  for  extensive  and  extrav 
agant  improvements  in  cities-to-be  was  not  the  least  phase 
of  this  brief  mania  of  the  fortune-making,  fortune-breaking 
"boom." 

When  Hans  Wyker  had  seen  his  own  town  wane  as 
Careyville  waxed,  he  consigned  the  newer  community,  and 
all  that  it  was,  to  all  the  purgatories  ever  organized  and 
some  yet  to  be  created. 

175 


176  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Wykerton  was  at  a  standstill  now.  The  big  brewery 
had  become  a  flouring  mill,  but  it  was  idle  most  of  the 
time.  The  windows  served  as  targets  for  the  sons  of  the 
men  who  consumed  its  brewing  product  in  other  days, 
and  the  whole  structure  had  a  disconsolate,  dismantled 
appearance. 

There  was  neither  a  schoolhouse  nor  a  church  inside  the 
corporation  limits.  The  land  along  Big  Wolf  was  not  like 
the  rich  prairies  west  of  it,  and  freeholds  entered  first 
with  hopes  in  Wykerton's  prosperity  had  proved  disap 
pointing,  if  not  disastrous,  to  their  owners. 

The  rough  ground,  mortgaged  now,  and  by  the  decline 
of  the  town,  decreased  in  value,  began  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  John  Jacobs,  who  made  no  effort  at  settlement,  but 
turned  it  to  grazing  purposes.  His  holdings  joined  the 
property  foreclosed  by  Wyker  wrhen  his  town  failed,  but 
inhabited  still  by  tenants  too  poor  to  leave  it.  The  bound 
ary  line  between  Wyker  and  Jacobs  was  the  same  ugly 
little  creek  that  Doctor  Carey  had  turned  his  course  to 
avoid  on  that  winter  day  when  he  had  seen  Virginia  Ayde- 
lot's  distress  signal  and  heard  her  singing  a  plaintive  plea 
for  help. 

It  was  an  ugly  little  stream,  with  much  mire  and  some 
quicksand  to  be  avoided;  with  deep  earth-canyons  and 
sliding  avalanches  of  dirt  on  steep  slopes,  and  now  and  then 
a  stone  outcrop  jagged  and  difficult,  not  to  say  dangerous, 
to  footways,  and  impossible  to  stock.  It  was  called  Little 
Wolf  because  it  was  narrower  than  the  willow-fringed 
stream  into  which  it  emptied.  But  Big  Wolf  Creek  could 
rarely  boast  of  half  the  volume  of  water  that  the  sluggish 
little  tributary  held.  Big  Wolf  was  shallow,  with  more 


Lights  and  Shadows  177 

shale  and  sand  along  its  bed.  Little  Wolf  was  narrow  arid 
deceivingly  deep  in  places. 

One  Spring  day,  John  Jacobs  and  Asher  Aydelot  rode 
out  to  Jacobs'  ranches  together. 

"  You  are  improving  your  stock  every  year,  Stewart  tells 
me,"  Asher  was  saying.  "  I  may  try  sheep  myself  next 
year." 

"I  am  hoping  to  have  only  thoroughbreds  some  day. 
That's  a  good  horse  you  ride,"  Jacobs  replied. 

"Yes,  he  has  a  strain  of  Kentucky  blue-blood.  My 
wife  owned  a  thoroughbred  when  we  came  West.  We  keep 
the  descent  still.  We've  never  been  without  a  black  horse 
in  the  stable  since  that  time.  Do  we  turn  here?" 

They  were  following  the  lower  trail  by  the  willows, 
when  Jacobs  turned  abruptly  to  a  rough  roadway  leading 
up  a  shadowy  hollow. 

"  Yes.  It's  an  ugly  climb,  but  much  shorter  to  the  sheep 
range  and  the  cattle  are  near." 

"How  much  land  have  you  here,  Jacobs?"  Asher 
asked. 

"From  Little  Wolf  to  the  corporation  line  of  Wyker- 
ton.  Five  hundred  acres,  more  or  less;  all  fenced,  too," 
Jacobs  added.  "  This  creek  divides  Wyker's  ground  from 
mine.  All  the  rest  is  measured  by  links  and  chains.  We 
agreed  to  metes  and  bounds  for  this  because  it  averages  the 
same,  anyhow,  and  I'd  like  a  stream  between  Wyker  and 
myself  in  addition  to  a  barbed  wire  fence.  It  gives  more 
space,  at  least." 

They  had  followed  the  rough  way  only  a  short  distance 
when  Asher,  who  was  nearest  the  creek,  halted.  The  bank 
was  steep  and  several  feet  above  the  water. 


178  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Does  anybody  else  keep  sheep  around  here?"  he 
inquired. 

"Not  here,"  John  Jacobs  answered. 

"  Look  over  there.    Isn't  that  a  sheep  ?  " 

Asher  pointed  to  a  carcass  lying  half  out  of  the  water 
on  a  pile  of  drift  where  the  stream  was  narrow,  but  too 
deep  for  fording. 

"Maybe  some  dog  killed  it  and  the  carcass  got  into  the 
creek.  My  sheep  can't  get  to  the  water  because  my  pas 
ture  is  fenced.  That's  on  Wyker's  side,  anyhow.  I  won't 
risk  fording  to  get  over  there.  It's  as  dead  right  now  as 
it  will  ever  be,"  Jacobs  asserted. 

Their  trail  grew  narrower  and  more  secluded,  winding  up 
a  steep  hill  between  high  banks.  Half  way  up,  where  the 
road  made  a  sharp  turn,  a  break  in  the  side  next  to  the 
creek  opened  a  rough  way  down  to  the  water.  As  they 
neared  this,  a  woman  coming  down  the  hill  caught  sight 
of  the  two  horsemen  around  the  bend,  and  made  a  swift 
movement  toward  this  opening  in  the  bank,  as  if  to 
clamber  down  from  their  sight.  She  was  not  quick 
enough,  however,  and  when  she  found  she  had  been 
seen,  she  waited  by  the  roadside  until  the  men  had 
passed  on. 

Asher,  who  was  next  to  her,  looked  keenly  at  her  as  he 
bade  her  good  morning,  but  John  Jacobs  merely  lifted  his 
hat  without  giving  her  more  than  a  glance. 

The  woman  stared  at  both,  but  made  no  response  to 
their  greetings.  She  was  plainly  dressed,  with  a  black 
scarf  tied  over  her  tow-colored  hair.  She  had  a  short  club 
in  one  hand  and  a  big  battered  tin  can  in  the  other,  which 
she  seemed  anxious  to  conceal.  When  the  men  had  passed, 


Lights  and  Shadows  179 

she  looked  after  them  with  an  ugly  expression  of  malice 
in  her  little  pale  gray  eyes. 

"That's  a  bad  face,"  Asher  said,  when  they  were  out 
of  her  hearing.  "I  wonder  why  she  tried  to  hide  that 
old  salt  can." 

"How  do  you  know  it  was  a  salt  can?"  Jacobs  asked. 

"Because  it  is  exactly  like  a  salt  can  I  saw  at  Pryor 
Games'  old  cabin,  and  because  some  salt  fell  out  as  she 
tipped  it  over,"  Asher  replied. 

"  You  have  an  eye  for  details,"  Jacobs  returned.  "  That 
was  Gretchen  Gimpke,  Hans  Wyker's  girl.  She  married 
his  bartender,  and  is  raising  a  family  of  little  bartenders 
back  in  the  hilly  country  there,  while  Gimpke  helps  Hans 
run  a  perfectly  respectable  tavern  in  town." 

"Well,  I  may  misjudge  her,  but  if  I  had  any  interest 
near  here,  I  should  want  her  to  keep  on  her  own  side  of  the 
creek,"  Asher  declared. 

And  somehow  both  remembered  the  dead  sheep  down  in 
the  deep  pool  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

The  live  sheep  were  crowding  along  the  fence  on  the 
creek  side  of  the  big  range  when  the  two  men  entered  it. 

"What  ails  the  flock?"  Asher  asked,  as  they  saw  it 
following  the  fence  line  eagerly. 

"  Let's  ride  across  and  meet  them,"  Jacobs  suggested. 

The  creek  side  was  rough  with  many  little  dips  and  draws 
hiding  the  boundary  line  in  places.  The  men  rode  quietly 
toward  the  flock  by  the  shortest  way.  As  they  faced  a  hol 
low  deepening  to  a  draw  toward  the  creek,  Asher  suddenly 
halted. 

"  Look  at  that ! "  he  cried,  pointing  toward  the  fence. 

John   Jacobs   looked   and   saw   where   the   ground   was 


180  Winning  the  Wilderness 

lowest  that  the  barbed  wires  had  been  dragged  out  of  place, 
leaving  an  opening  big  enough  for  two  or  more  sheep  to 
crowd  through  at  a  time.  As  they  neared  this  point, 
Asher  said: 

"  It's  a  pretty  clear  case,  Jacobs.  See  that  line  of  salt 
running  up  the  bare  ground,  and  here  is  an  opening.  The 
flock  is  coming  down  on  that  line.  They  will  have  a 
chance  to  drink  after  taking  their  salt." 

John  Jacobs  slid  from  his  horse,  and  giving  the  rein  to 
Asher,  he  climbed  through  the  hole  in  the  fence  and  hastily 
examined  the  ground  beyond  it. 

"  It's  a  friendly  act  on  somebody's  part,"  he  said  grimly. 
"  The  creek  cuts  a  deep  hole  under  the  bank  here.  There's 
a  pile  of  salt  right  at  the  edge.  Somebody  has  sprinkled 
a  line  of  it  clear  over  the  hill  to  toll  the  flock  out  where 
they  will  scramble  for  it  and  tumble  over  into  that  deep 
water.  All  they  need  to  do  is  to  swim  down  to  the  next 
shallow  place  and  wade  out.  The  pool  may  be  full  of 
them  now,  waiting  their  turn  to  go.  Sheep  are  polite  in 
deep  \vater;  they  never  rush  ahead." 

"  They  swim  well,  too,  especially  if  they  happen  to  fall 
into  the  water  just  before  shearing  time  when  their  wool 
is  long,"  Asher  said  ironically. 

"  What  did  you  say  Gretchen  Gimpke  had  in  that  tin 
can?"  Jacobs  inquired  blandly. 

"  Oil  of  sassafras,  I  think,"  Asher  responded,  as  he  tied 
the  horses  and  helped  to  mend  the  weakened  fence. 

"Nobody  prospers  long  after  such  tricks.  I'll  not  lose 
sleep  over  lost  sheep,"  John  Jacobs  declared.  "Let's  hunt 
up  the  cattle  and  forget  this,  and  the  woman  and  the 
scary  little  twist  in  the  creek  trail." 


'It's  a  friendly  act  on  somebody's  part, 
he  said  grimly 


Lights  and  Shadows  181 

"Why  scary?"  Asher  asked.  "Are  you  so  afraid  of 
women  ?  No  wonder  you  are  a  bachelor." 

Jacobs  did  not  smile  as  he  said: 

"  Once  when  I  was  a  child  I  read  a  story  of  a  man  being1 
killed  at  just  such  an  out-of-the-way  place.  Every  time  I 
go  up  that  crooked,  lonesome  hill  road,  I  remember  the  pic 
ture  in  the  book.  It  always  makes  me  think  of  that  story." 

When  the  fence  was  made  secure,  the  two  rode  away  to 
look  after  the  cattle.  And  if  a  Shadow  rode  beside  them,  it 
was  mercifully  unseen,  and  in  nowise  dimming  to  the  clear 
light  of  the  spring  day. 

It  was  high  noon  when  they  reached  Wykerton,  where 
Hans  Wyker  still  fed  the  traveling  public,  although  the 
flourishing  hotel  where  Virginia  Aydelot  first  met  John 
Jacobs  had  disappeared.  The  eating-place  behind  the  gen 
eral  store  room  was  divided  into  two  parts,  a  blind  partition 
wall  cutting  off  a  narrow  section  across  the  farther  end. 
Ordinary  diners  went  through  the  store  into  the  dining 
room  and  were  supplied  from  the  long  kitchen  running 
parallel  with  this  room. 

There  were  some  guests,  however,  who  entered  the  farther 
room  by  a  rear  door  and  were  likewise  supplied  from  the 
kitchen  on  the  side.  But  as  there  was  no  opening  between 
the  two  rooms,  many  who  ate  at  Wyker's  never  knew  of  the 
narrow  room  beyond  their  own  eating-place  and  of  the 
two  entrances  into  the  kitchen  covering  the  side  of  each 
room.  Of  course,  the  prime  reason  for  such  an  arrange 
ment  lay  in  Wyker's  willingness  to  evade  the  law  and 
supply  customers  with  contraband  drinks.  But  the  infrac 
tion  of  one  law  is  a  breach  in  the  wall  through  which  many 
lawless  elements  may  crowd.  The  place  became,  by  natural 


182  Winning  the  Wilderness 

selection,  the  council  chamber  of  the  lawless,  and  many  an 
evil  deed  was  plotted  therein. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  keep  a  store  in  a  place  like  this, 
Jacobs  ?  "  Asher  Ay delot  asked,  as  the  two  men  waited  for 
their  meal. 

"  I  had  the  chance  once.  I  turned  it  down.  How  would 
you  like  to  keep  a  tavern  in  such  a  place  ?  "  Jacobs  returned. 

"  I  turned  down  a  bigger  tavern  than  this  once  to  be  a 
farmer.  I  have  never  regretted  it,"  Asher  replied. 

"  The  Sunflower  Ranch  has  always  interested  me.  How 
long  have  you  had  it?"  Jacobs  asked. 

"  Since  1869.  I  was  the  first  man  on  Grass  River.  Shir 
ley  came  soon  afterward,"  Asher  said. 

"And  your  ranches  are  typical  of  you,  too,"  John 
Jacobs  said  thoughtfully.  "  How  much  do  you  own  now  ?  " 

"  Six  quarters,"  Asher  replied.  "  I've  added  piece  by 
piece.  Mortgaged  one  quarter  to  buy  another.  There's 
a  good  deal  of  it  under  mortgage  now." 

"You  seem  to  know  what's  ahead  pretty  well,"  Jacobs 
remarked. 

"  I  know  what's  in  the  prairie  soil  pretty  well.  I  know 
that  crops  will  fail  sometimes  and  boom  sometimes,  and  I 
know  if  I  live  I  mean  to  own  three  times  what  I  have  now ; 
that  I'll  have  a  grove  a  mile  square  on  it,  and  a  lake  in 
the  middle,  and  a  farmhouse  of  colonial  style  up  on  the 
swell  where  we  are  living  now  and  that  neither  John  Jacobs 
nor  the  First  National  Bank  of  Careyville  will  hold  any 
mortgage  on  it."  Asher's  face  was  bright  with  anticipation. 

"  You  are  a  dreamer,  Aydelot." 

"No,  Jim  Shirley's  a  dreamer,"  Asher  insisted.  "Mrs. 
Aydelot  and  I  planned  our  home  the  first  night  she  came  a 


Lights  and  Shadows  183 

bride  to  our  little  one-roomed  soddy.  There  are  cotton- 
woods  and  elms  and  locust  trees  shading  our  house  now 
where  there  was  only  a  bunch  of  sunflowers  then,  and  except 
for  Jim's  little  corn  patch  and  mine,  not  a  furrow  turned 
in  the  Grass  River  Valley.  We  have  accomplished  some 
thing  since  then.  Why  not  the  whole  thing  ?  " 

"  You  have  reason  for  your  faith,  I  admit.  But  you  are 
right,  Shirley  is  a  dreamer.  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"An  artistic  temperament,  more  heart  than  head,  a 
neglected  home  life  in  his  boyhood,  and  a  fight  for  health 
to  do  his  work.  He'll  die  mortgaged,  but  he  has  helped 
so  many  other  fellows  to  lift  theirs,  I  envy  Jim's  '  abundant 
entrance'  by  and  by.  But  now  he  dreams  of  a  thousand 
things  and  realizes  none.  Poor  fellow!  His  dooryard  is 
a  picture,  while  the  weeds  sometimes  choke  his  garden." 

"  Yes,  he'll  die  mortgaged.  He's  never  paid  me  interest 
nor  principal  on  my  little  loan,  yet  I'd  increase  it  tomorrow 
if  he  asked  me  to  do  it,"  John  Jacobs  declared. 

"  You  are  a  blood-sucking  Shylock,  sure  enough,"  Asher 
said  with  a  smile.  "I  wish  Jim  would  take  advantage  of 
you  and  quit  his  talking  about  the  boom  and  his  dreams 
of  what  it  might  do  for  him." 

"  How  soon  will  you  be  platting  your  Sunflower  Ranch 
into  town  lots  for  the  new  town  that  I  hear  is  to  be  started 
down  your  way  ?  "  John  Jacobs  inquired. 

"  Town  lots  do  not  appeal  to  me,  Jacobs,"  Asher  replied. 
"I'm  a  slow-growing  Buckeye,  I'll  admit,  but  I  can't  see 
anything  but  mushrooms  in  these  towns  out  West  where 
there  is  no  farming  community  about  them.  I've  waited 
and  worked  a  good  while ;  I'm  willing  to  work  and  wait  a 
while  longer.  Some  of  my  dreams  have  come  true.  I'll 


184  Winning  the  Wilderness 

hold  to  my  first  position,  even  if  I  don't  get  rich  so  fast." 

"  You  are  level-headed,"  Jacobs  assured  him.  "  You 
notice  I  have  not  turned  an  acre  in  on  this  boom.  Why? 
I'm  a  citizen  of  Kansas.  And  while  I  like  to  increase  my 
property,  you  know  my  sect  bears  that  reputation  — " 
Jacobs  never  blushed  for  his  Jewish  origin  — "  I  want  to 
keep  on  living  somewhere.  Why  not  here?  Why  do  the 
other  fellows  out  of  their  goods,  as  we  Jews  are  always 
accused  of  doing,  if  it  leaves  me  no  customer  to  buy?  I 
want  farmers  around  my  town,  not  speculators  who  work 
a  field  from  hand  to  hand,  but  leave  it  vacant  at  last.  It 
makes  your  merchant  rich  today  but  bankrupt  in  a  dead 
town  tomorrow.  I'm  a  merchant  by  calling." 

"Horace  Greeley  said  thirty  years  ago  that  the  twin 
curses  of  Kansas  were  the  land  agent  and  the  one-horse 
politician,"  Asher  observed. 

"  You  are  a  grub,  Aydelot.  You  have  no  ambition  at  all. 
Why,  I've  heard  your  name  mentioned  favorably  several 
times  for  the  legislature  next  winter,"  Jacobs  insisted 
jokingly. 

"  Which  reminds  me  of  that  rhyme  of  Hosea  Bigelow : 

If  you're  arter  folks  o'  gumption 
You've  a  darned  long  row  to  hoe. 

"  I'm  not  an  office  seeker,"  Asher  replied. 

"Do  I  understand  you  won't  sell  lots  off  that  ranch  of 
yours  to  start  a  new  town,  and  you  won't  run  for  the  leg 
islature  when  you're  dead  sure  to  be  elected.  May  I  ask 
how  you  propose  to  put  in  the  fall  after  wheat  harvest?" 
Jacobs  asked,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  black  eyes. 

"  I  propose  to  break  ground  for  wheat  again,  and  to 


Lights  and  Shadows  185 

experiment  with  alfalfa,  the  new  hay  product,  and  to  take 
care  of  that  Aydelot  grove  and  build  the  Aydelot  lake  in 
the  middle  of  it.  And  I'll  be  supplying  the  wheat  market 
and  banking  checks  for  hay  one  of  these  years  when  your 
town  starters  will  be  hunting  clerkships  in  your  dry  goods 
emporium,  and  your  farmers,  who  imagine  themselves  each 
a  Cincinnatus  called  to  office,  will  be  asking  for  appoint 
ment  as  deputy  county  assessor  or  courthouse  custodian. 
Few  things  can  so  unfit  a  Kansas  fellow  for  the  real  business 
of  life  as  a  term  in  the  lower  house  of  the  Kansas  legisla 
ture.  If  you  are  a  merchant,  I'm  a  farmer,  and  we  will 
both  be  booming  the  state  when  these  present-day  boomers 
are  gone  back  East  to  wife's  folks,  blaming  Kansas  for  their 
hard  luck.  Now,  mark  my  words.  But  to  change  the  sub 
ject,"  Asher  said  smiling,  "I  thought  we  should  have  com 
pany  for  dinner.  I  saw  Darley  Champers  and  another 
fellow  head  in  here  before  us.  Darley  is  in  clover  now, 
planning  to  charter  a  town  for  every  other  section  on  Grass 
River.  Did  you  know  the  man  who  was  with  him?" 

"  That's  one  fly-by-night  calling  himself  Thomas  Smith. 
Innocent  name  and  easy  to  lose  if  you  don't  want  it.  Not 
like  Gimpke  or  Aydelot,  now.  He's  from  Wilmington, 
Delaware  —  maybe." 

"You  seem  to  doubt  his  genuineness,"  Asher  remarked. 

"I  don't  believe  he  will  assay  well,"  Jacobs  agreed. 
"  I've  doubted  him  since  the  day  he  landed  in  Carey's  Cross 
ing  fifteen  years  ago.  Inside  of  an  hour  and  a  half  I 
caught  him  and  Champers  in  a  consultation  so  secret  they 
fastened  newspapers  across  the  window  to  keep  from  being 
seen." 

"Where  were  you  meanwhile?" 


186  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Up  on  the  roof,  fixing  the  sign  the  wind  had  blown 
loose.  When  they  saw  me  through  the  uncovered  upper  pane, 
they  shaded  that,  too.  I've  little  interest  in  a  man  like  that." 

"Does  he  come  here  often?"  Asher  inquired. 

"  He's  here  and  away,  but  he  never  sets  foot  in  Carey- 
.ville.  My  guess  is  that  he's  a  part  of  the  '  Co.'  of  *  Cham 
pers  and  Co.'  and  that  Hans  Wyker  is  the  rest  of  it.  Also 
that  in  what  they  can  get  by  fair  means,  each  of  the  trio 
reserves  the  right  to  act  alone  and  independently  of  the 
other  two,  but  when  it  comes  to  a  cut-throat  game,  they 
combine  as  readily  as  hydrogen  and  sulphur  and  oxygen; 
and,  combined,  they  have  the  same  effect  on  a  proposition 
that  sulphuric  acid  has  on  litmus  paper.  But  this  is 
all  only  a  Jew's  guess,  of  course.  For  myself,  I  have  busi 
ness  with  only  one  of  the  three,  Wyker.  He  doesn't  like 
my  sheep,  evidently,  because  he  knows  I  keep  track  of  his 
whisky  selling  in  this  town  and  keep  the  law  forever  hang 
ing  over  him.  But  I've  sworn  under  high  heaven  to  fight 
that  curse  to  humanity  wherever  I  find  it  threatening,  and 
under  high  heaven  I'll  do  it,  too." 

Jacobs'  face  was  the  face  of  a  resolute  man  with  whom 
law  was  law.  Then  the  two  talked  of  other  things  as  they 
finished  their  meal. 

John  Jacobs  was  city  bred,  a  merchant  by  instinct,  a 
Jew  in  religion,  and  a  strictly  honest  and  exacting  business 
man.  Asher  Aydelot  had  been  a  country  boy  and  was  by 
choice  a  farmer.  He  was  a  Protestant  of  the  Methodist 
persuasion.  It  must  have  been  his  business  integrity  that 
first  attracted  Jacobs  to  him.  Jacobs  was  a  timid  man,  and 
no  one  else  in  Kansas,  not  even  Doctor  Carey,  understood 
him  or  appreciated  him  quite  as  keenly  as  Asher  Aydelot  did. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FAT  YEARS 

"  The  lean  years  have  passed,  and  I  approve  of  these  fat  ones." 
"Be  careful,  old  man.    That  way  lies  bad  work." 

— The  Light  That  Failed. 

JOHN  JACOBS  little  realized  how  true  was  his  estimate 
of  the  firm  of  "  Champers  &  Co."     Nor  did  he  suspect 
that  at  this  very  minute  the  firm  was  in  council  in  the  small 
room  beyond  the  partition  wall  —  the  "blind  tiger"   of 
the  Wyker  eating-house. 

"  I  tell  you  it's  our  chance,"  Darley  Champers  was  declar 
ing  emphatically.  "  You  mustn't  hold  back  your  capital 
now.  This  firm  isn't  organized  to  promote  health  nor  Sun 
day  Schools  nor  some  other  fellow's  fortune.  We  are  to 
gether  for  yours  truly,  every  one  of  us.  If  you  two  have 
some  other  games  back  of  your  own  pocketbooks,  they  don't 
cut  any  against  this  common  purpose.  I'm  for  business 
for  Darley  Champers.  That's  why  I'm  here.  I've  got  no 
love  for  Doc  Carey,  ruling  men's  minds  like  they  was  all 
putty,  and  him  a  putty  knife  to  shape  'em  finer  yet.  And 
another  fellow  I'd  like  to  put  down  so  hard  he'll  never  get 
over  it  is  that  straight-up-and-down  farmer,  Asher  Aydelot 
of  the  Sunflower  Ranch,  who  walks  like  a  military  captain, 
and  works  like  a  hired  man,  and  is  so  danged  independent  he 
don't  give  a  damn  for  no  man's  opinion  of  him.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  him  we'd  a  had  the  whole  Grass  River  Valley  now 
to  speculate  on.  I'm  something  of  a  danged  fool,  but  I 
knowed  this  boom  was  comin'.  I  felt  it  in  my  craw." 

187 


188  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  So  you  always  said,  Champers,"  Thomas  Smith  broke 
in,  "  but  it's  been  a  century  coming.  And  look  at  the  cap 
ital  I've  sunk.  If  you'd  worked  that  deal  through,  time  of 
the  drouth  in  seventy-four,  we'd  be  in  clover  and  no  Carey- 
ville  and  no  Aydelots  in  the  way.  I  could  have  saved 
Asher's  little  bank  stock  then,  too. 

"  You  could  ?  "     Darley  Champers  stared  at  the  speaker. 

"  Yes,  if  he'd  given  up  right  that  first  trip  of  yours  down 
there.  When  he  refused  I  knew  his  breed  too  well.  He's 
as  set  and  slow  and  stubborn  as  his  old  dad  ever  was. 
That's  what  ailed  those  two,  they  were  too  near  alike ;  and 
you'll  never  catch  Asher  Aydelot  bending  to  our  plans  now. 
I  warn  you." 

"  Well,  but  about  this  bank  account  ?  "  Champers  queried. 

"Oh,  the  fates  played  the  devil  with  everything  in  two 
"weeks.  Doc  Carey  got  in  with  Miss  Jane  Aydelot  down  at 
Philadelphia,  and  she  came  straight  to  Cloverdale,  and, 
woman-like,  made  things  so  hot  there  I  had  to  let  loose  of 
everything  at  once  or  lose  everything  I  had  saved  for 
myself.  Serves  her  right,  for  Asher's  pile  went  into  the 
dump,  although  there's  naturally  no  love  lost  between  the 
two.  But  this  Miss  Jane  is  Aydelot  clear  through.  She's 
so  honest  and  darned  set  you  can't  budge  her.  But  she's  a 
timid  woman  and  so  she's  safe  if  you  keep  out  of  her  range. 
She  won't  chase  you  far,  but  she's  got  fourteen  rattles 
and  a  button." 

"  Well,  well,  let  her  rattle,  and  get  to  pusiness,"  Hans 
Wyker  demanded.  "  Here's  Champers  says  he's  here  yust 
for  pusiness  and  he  wants  to  get  Aydelot  and  Carey,  too." 

"Gentlemen!"  Champers  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 
"Let's  play  fair  now,  so's  not  to  spoil  each  other's  games. 


The  Fat  Years  189 


I'll  fix  Aydelot  if  it's  in  me  to  do  it,  just  because  he's 
stood  in  my  way  once  too  often.  But  he's  my  side  line, 
him  and  Carey  is.  I'm  here  for  business.  Tell  me  what 
you  are  here  for." 

Hans  Wyker's  little  eyes  wrere  red  with  pent-up  anger 
and  malice  as  he  burst  out: 

"  Shentlemen,  you  know  my  hart  luck.  You  see  where 
I  be  today.  I  not  repeat  no  tiresome  history  here.  Kansas 
yust  boomin'!  Wykerton  dead!  Yon  Yacob  own  all  der 
groun'  right  oop  to  der  corporation  line  on  tree  side,  an' 
he  not  sell  one  inch  for  attitions  to  dis  town.  He  say 
dere  notings  to  keep  town  goin'  in  two,  tree  year.  What 
we  care?  We  be  rich  by  den  an'  let  it  go  to  der  devil. 
But  he  not  sell.  Den  I  go  mit  you  and  we  organize  town 
company.  We  mark  townsite,  we  make  Grass  River  sell 
to  us.  We  boom !  boom !  boom !  We  knock  Careyville 
from  de  prairie  alretty,  mak'  Yon  Yacob  go  back  to  Cin 
cinnati  where  he  belong  mit  his  Chews.  He  damned  queer 
Chew,  but  he  Chew  all  de  same  all  right,  all  right.  I  want 
to  down  Yon  Yacob,  an'  I  do  it  if  it  take  tree  hundred 
fifty  years.  I'll  kill  him  if  he  get  in  my  way.  I  hate  him. 
He  run  me  off  my  saloon  in  ol'  Carey  Crossin' ;  my  prewery 
goin'  smash  mit  der  damned  prohibittery  law;  he  growin' 
rich  in  Careyville,  an'  me!" 

His  voice  rose  to  a  shriek  and  he  stamped  his  foot  in 
rage. 

"  Hold  your  noise,  Wyker ! "  Champers  growled.  "  Don't 
you  know  who's  on  the  other  side  of  that  partition?" 

"I  built  that  partition  mineself.  It's  von  dead  noise- 
breaker,"  Wyker  began.  But  Champers  broke  in : 

"It's  your  turn,  Smith." 


190  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Dr.  Carey  had  described  Smith  once  as  rather  small, 
with  close-set  dark  eyes  and  a  stiff,  half-paralyzed  right 
arm  and  wrist,  a  man  who  wrote  in  a  cramped  left-handed 
style.  There  was  a  crooked  little  scar  cutting  across  his 
forehead  now  above  the  left  eye  that  promised  to  stay 
there  for  life.  He  had  a  way  of  evading  a  direct  gaze, 
suggesting  timidity.  And  when  Hans  Wyker  had  threat 
ened  to  kill  John  Jacobs  he  shivered  a  little,  and  for  the 
instant  a  gray  pallor  crept  across  his  face,  unnoted  by 
his  companions. 

"  We  propose  to  start  a  town  in  the  Grass  River  country 
that  will  kill  Careyville.  We  two  put  up  the  capital. 
You  do  the  buying  and  selling.  We'll  handle  real  estate 
lively  for  a  few  months.  We'll  advertise  till  we  fill  the 
place  with  buyers,  and  we'll  make  our  pile  right  there  and 
then  —  and  it's  all  to  be  done  by  Darley  Champers  &  Co. 
We  two  are  not  to  be  in  the  open  in  the  game  at  all." 

Thomas  Smith  spoke  deliberately.  There  seemed  to 
be  none  of  Champers'  bluster  nor  Wyker's  malice  in  the 
third  part  of  the  company,  or  else  he  was  better  schooled 
in  self-control. 

"You  have  it  exactly,"  Champers  declared.  "The  first 
thing  is  to  take  in  fellows  like  Jim  Shirley  and  Cyrus 
Bennington  and  Todd  Stewart,  and  Aydelot,  if  we  can." 

"Yes,  if  we  can,  but  we  can't,"  Thomas  Smith  insisted. 

"And  having  got  the  land,  with  or  without  their  know 
ing  why,  we  boom  her  to  destruction.  But  to  be  fair,  now, 
why  do  you  want  to  keep  yourself  in  hiding,  and  who's  the 
fellow  you  want  to  kill?"  Darley  Champers  said  with  a 
laugh. 

"  I  may  as  well  let  you  know  now  why  I  can't  be  known 


The  Fat  Years  191 


in  this,"  Thomas  Smith  said  smoothly,  even  if  the  same 
gray  hue  did  flit  like  a  shadow  a  second  time  across  his 
countenance  —  a  thing  that  did  not  escape  the  shrewd  eye 
of  Darley  Champers  this  time. 

"Wyker  is  pitted  against  Jacobs.  You  are  after  Asher 
Aydelot's  scalp,  if  you  can  get  it.  I  must  get  Jim  Shirley, 
fair  or  foul." 

Smith's  low  voice  was  full  of  menace,  boding  more 
trouble  to  his  man  than  the  bluster  and  threat  of  the  other 
two  could  compass. 

"I  paid  you  well,  Darley  Champers,  for  all  information 
concerning  Jim  when  I  came  here  fifteen  years  ago.  I  was 
acting  under  orders,  and  as  Jim  would  have  known  me 
then  I  had  to  keep  out  of  sight  a  little." 

"Veil,  and  vot  has  Shirley  ever  done  mit  you  that  you 
so  down  on  him  ?  "  Hans  Wyker  asked. 

The  smooth  mask  did  not  drop  from  Smith's  face, 
save  that  the  small  dark  eyes  burned  with  an  intense 
glow. 

"I  tell  you  I  was  acting  under  orders  from  Shirley's 
brother  Tank  in  Cloverdale,  Ohio.  And  if  Dr.  Carey  hadn't 
been  so  blamed  quick  I'd  have  gotten  a  letter  Mrs.  Tank 
Shirley  had  written  to  Jim  the  very  day  I  got  to  Carey's 
Crossing.  No  brother  ever  endured  more  from  the  hands 
of  a  relative  than  Tank  Shirley  endured  from  Jim.  In 
every  way  Jim  tried  to  defraud  him  of  his  rights ;  tried 
to  prejudice  their  own  father  against  him;  tried  to  rob 
him  of  the  girl,  a  rich  girl,  too,  that  he  married  in  spite 
of  Jim  —  and  at  last  contrived  to  prejudice  his  wife  against 
him,  and  with  Jane  Aydelot  interfering  all  the  time,  like 
the  old  maid  that  she  is,  managed  to  get  Tank  Shirley's 


192  Winning  the  Wilderness 

only  child  away  from  him  and  given  legally  to  Jim.  Do 
you  wonder  Tank  hates  his  brother?  You  wouldn't  if  I 
dared  to  tell  you  all  of  Jim's  cussedness,  but  some  things 
I'm  sworn  to  secrecy  on.  That's  Tank's  streak  of  kindness 
he  can't  overcome.  Gets  it  from  his  mother.  I'm  his 
agent,  and  I'm  paid  for  my  work.  You  both  understand 
me,  I  reckon." 

"We  unterstant,  an'  we  stay  py  you  to  der  ent,"  Hans 
Wyker  exclaimed  enthusiastically.  But  Darley  Champers 
had  a  different  mind. 

"  I'll  watch  you,  my  man,  and  I'll  do  business  with  you 
accordin',"  he  said  to  himself.  "Devil  knows  whether  you 
are  Thomas  Smith  workin'  for  Tank  Shirley,  or  Tank 
Shirley  workin'  for  hisself  under  a  assoomed  name.  Long  as 
I  get  your  capital  to  push  my  business  I  don't  care  who 
you  are."  Aloud  he  remarked: 

"  So  that's  how  Jim  Shirley  got  that  little  girl.  She's 
a  comely  youngun,  anyhow.  But  Smith,  since  you  are 
only  an  agent  and  nobody  knows  it  but  us,  why  keep 
yourself  so  secret?  Where's  the  harm  in  letting  Shirley 
lay  eyes  on  you?  Why  not  come  out  into  the  open? 
How'll  Shirley  know  you  from  the  Mayor  of  Wilmington, 
Delaware,  anyhow?" 

Thomas  Smith's  face  was  ashy  and  his  voice  was  hoarse 
with  anger  as  he  replied : 

"  Because  I'm  not  now  from  Wilmington,  Delaware,  any 
more  than  I  ever  was.  I'm  from  Cloverdale,  Ohio.  You 
know,  Wyker,  how  I  lost  money  in  your  brewery,  investing 
in  machinery  and  starting  the  thing,  only  to  go  to  smash 
on  us." 

He  turned  on  Hans  fiercely. 


The  Fat  Years  193 


"  And  you  know  how  I  lost  by  you  in  this  town  and  the 
land  around  it.  It  was  my  money  took  up  all  this  ground 
to  help  build  up  Wykerton  and  you,  as  my  agent,  sold 
every  acre  of  it  to  Jacobs." 

This  as  fiercely  as  Darley  Champers. 

Both  men  nodded  and  Darley  broke  in: 

"  I  was  honest.  I  thought  Jacobs  was  gettin'  it  to  boom 
Wykerton  with,  or  I'd  never  sold.  And  him  bein'  right 
here  was  a  danged  sight  easier'n  havin'  some  man  in 
Wilmington,  Delaware,  to  write  to.  That's  why  I  let  him 
in  on  three  sides,  appealin'  to  his  pride." 

But  Thomas  Smith  stopped  him  abruptly. 

"Hold  on!  You  need  money  to  push  your  schemes 
now.  And  I'm  the  one  who  does  the  financing  for  you." 

Both  men  agreed. 

"Then  it's  death  to  either  of  you  if  you  ever  tell  a 
word  of  this.  You  understand  that  ?  I'm  not  to  be  known 
here  because  I'm  a  dead  man.  I'm  the  cashier  that  was 
mixed  up  in  the  Cloverdale  bank  affair.  And,  as  I  say,  if 
Jane  Aydelot  had  let  things  alone  Tank  Shirley  and  I 
could  have  pulled  out  honorably,  but,  woman-like,  because 
she  had  a  lot  of  bank  stock  and  was  the  biggest  loser  of 
anybody,  in  her  own  mind,  she  pushed  things  where  a  man 
would  not  have  noticed  or  kept  still,  and  she  kept  pushing 
year  after  year.  Damn  a  woman,  anyhow!  All  I  could 
do  at  last  was  to  commit  suicide.  Tank  planned  it.  It 
saved  me  and  helped  Tank.  You  see,  Miss  Jane  had  a  line 
around  his  neck,  too.  She  was  the  only  one  who  really 
saw  me  go  down  and  she  spread  the  report  that  I'd  com 
mitted  suicide  on  account  of  the  bank  failure.  So,  gentle 
men,  I'm  really  drowned  in  Clover  Creek  right  above  where 


194  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  railroad  grade  that  cuts  the  Aydelot  farm  reaches  the 
water." 

Darley  Champers  wondered  why  Thomas  Smith  was  so 
particular  in  his  description. 

"I've  known  Jim  Shirley  all  my  life.  He  was  as  bad  a 
boy  as  ever  left  Cloverdale,  Ohio,  under  a  cloud.  Got  into 
trouble  over  some  girl,  I  believe,  finally.  But  you  can  see 
why  I'm  out  of  this  game  when  it  comes  to  the  open.  And 
maybe  you  could  understand,  if  you  knew  the  brothers  as 
well  as  I  do,  why  Tank  keeps  me  after  him.  And  I'll  get 
him  yet." 

The  vengeance  of  the  last  words  was  venomous. 

"  Well,  now  we  understand  each  other  we'll  not  be  tramp 
ing  on  anybody's  corns,"  Darley  Champers  urged,  anxious 
to  get  away  from  the  subject. 

With  all  of  his  shortcomings  he  was  a  man  of  different 
mould  from  the  other  men.  Eagerness  to  represent  and 
invest  large  capital  and  to  make  by  far  the  best  of  a  bar 
gain  by  any  means  just  inside  the  law  were  his  besetments. 
But  he  had  not  the  unremitting  hatred  that  enslaved 
Thomas  Smith  and  Hans  Wyker. 

Champers'  store  of  energy  seemed  exhaustless.  Follow 
ing  this  council  he  fell  upon  the  Grass  River  Valley  and 
threshed  it  to  his  profit. 

One  mid-June  evening  the  Grass  River  schoolhouse  was 
lighted  early,  while  up  from  the  prairie  ranches  came  the 
work-worn  farmers. 

This  year  the  crop  outlook  was  bad,  yet  somehow  an 
expectant  spirit  lifted  sagging  shoulders  and  looked  out 
through  hopeful  eyes. 

While  the  men  exchanged  neighborly  greetings,  a  group 


The  Fat  Years  195 


of  children,  the  second  generation  in  the  valley,  romped 
about  in  the  twilight  outside. 

"  Here  comes  Thaine,"  they  shouted  as  Asher  Aydelot 
and  his  boy  came  down  the  trail. 

"Come  on,  Thaine,"  Leigh  Shirley  said,  reaching  for 
his  hand.  "  We  are  going  to  play  drop  the  handker 
chief." 

"  Thaine's  going  to  stand  by  me,"  pretty  Jo  Bennington 
declared,  pushing  Leigh  boisterously  aside. 

Josephine,  the  week-old  baby  Mrs.  Aydelot  had  gone  to 
see  one  day  nine  years  ago,  had  grown  into  a  big,  black- 
eyed,  rosy-cheeked  girl  who  lorded  it  over  every  other 
child  in  the  neighborhood.  And  every  other  child  sub 
mitted  except  Leigh  Shirley,  who  had  a  quiet  habit  of 
going  straight  ahead  about  her  affairs  in  a  way  that  vexed 
the  pretty  Jo  not  a  little.  From  the  first  coming  of  Leigh 
among  the  children  Jo  had  resented  her  independence.  But, 
young  as  they  all  were,  she  objected  most  to  Thaine 
Aydelot's  claiming  Leigh  as  his  playmate.  Thaine  was 
Jo's  idol  from  earliest  memory. 

"What's  the  row  here?"  Todd  Stewart,  Junior,  broke 
in.  "You  mustn't  fuss  or  you'll  all  have  to  go  in  and 
listen  to  Darley  Champers  and  I'll  play  out  here  by  myself." 

Todd  was  a  young-hearted,  half-grown  boy  now,  able 
to  work  all  day  in  the  hayfield  or  to  romp  like  a  child  with 
younger  children  in  the  evening.  He  was  half  a  dozen 
years  older  than  Thaine  and  Jo,  a  difference  that  would 
tend  to  disappear  by  the  end  of  a  decade. 

"  We'll  be  good,  Toddie,  if  you'll  let  us  stay  and  you'll 
play  with  us,"  the  children  entreated,  and  the  game  began, 
with  Thaine  between  Leigh  and  Jo. 


196  Winning  the  Wilderness 

When  Asher  Aydelot  joined  the  group  inside  Darley 
Champers  rapped  on  the  desk  and  called  the  men  to  order. 

"  Gentlemen,  let's  have  a  businesslike  proceeding,"  he 
said.  "Who  shall  preside  at  the  meeting?" 

"I  move  Jim  Shirley  be  made  chairman.  He's  the  best 
looking  man  here,"  Todd  Stewart  said,  half  seriously. 

The  motion  carried  and  Jim,  looking  big  and  handsome 
and  kindly  as  always,  took  the  chair. 

"I'll  ask  Mr.  Champers  to  state  the  purpose  of  the 
meeting,"  he  said. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Champers  began  with  tremendous  dignity, 
"I  represent  the  firm  of  the  Champers  Town  Company, 
just  chartered,  with  half  a  million  dollars'  capital.  Gen 
tlemen,  you  have  the  finest  valley  in  Kansas." 

The  same  was  said  of  every  other  valley  in  Kansas  in 
the  fat  years  of  the  boom.  But  to  do  Darley  justice,  he 
had  never  made  a  finer  effort  in  his  life  of  many  efforts 
than  he  was  bent  on  making  tonight. 

"And  this  site  is  the  garden  spot  of  it  all,"  he  con 
tinued.  "  The  elevation,  the  water  power  at  the  deep  bend 
of  Grass  River  [where  at  that  moment  only  a  trace  of 
water  marked  the  river's  grassy  right  of  way],  the  fine 
farming  land  —  everything  ready  for  a  sudden  leap  into 
prosperity.  And,  gentlemen,  the  A.  and  T.  [Arctic  and 
Tropic]  North  and  South  Railroad  will  begin  grading 
down  this  very  stream  inside  of  thirty  days.  A  town  here 
this  year  will  be  a  city  next  year,  a  danged  sight  bigger 
city  than  Careyville  will  ever  be.  Why,  that  town's  got 
its  growth  and  is  beginning  to  decay  right  now.  The 
A.  and  T.  will  miss  it  comin'  south,  by  ten  mile." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  the  men  before  him.     They 


The  Fat  Years  197 


were  farmers,  drooped  to  rest  after  the  long  summer  day's 
work,  yet  they  listened  with  intense  eagerness.  Only  Asher 
Aydelot  sat  in  easy  dignity,  looking  straight  at  Darley 
Champers  with  steady  interest.  The  four  years'  training 
in  the  University  of  the  Civil  War  had  not  been  overcome 
by  his  hold  on  the  plow  handles.  And  no  farmer  will  grow 
hopelessly  stooped  in  shoulders  and  sad  of  countenance 
who  lifts  his  face  often  from  the  clods  beneath  his  feet 
to  the  stars  above  his  head. 

"You  all  know  crops  was  poor  last  year  and  only 
moderately  promisin'  this  year,"  Champers  continued. 
"But  this  is  temporary  and  you  are  stayers,  as  I  can  tes 
tify.  The  Champers  Town  Company  is  ready  to  locate  a 
townsite  and  start  a  town  right  here  at  the  deep  bend  of 
Grass  River.  We  propose  to  plat  the  prairie  into  town 
lots  with  a  public  square  for  the  courthouse  and  sites  for 
the  railroad  station  and  grain  elevators,  a  big  hotel,  an 
opera  house,  and  factories  and  foundries  that's  bound  to 
come." 

The  speaker  paused  a  moment.  Then  the  inspiration  of 
the  evening  came  to  him. 

"  When  you  first  came  here,  Aydelot,  there  wasn't  noth 
ing  but  imagination  to  make  this  a  farming  community. 
And  it  looked  lots  more  impossible  then  than  this  looks  to 
me  now.  What's  to  prevent  a  metropolis  risin'  right  here 
where  a  decade  and  a  half  ago  there  wasn't  nothing  but 
bare  prairie?" 

The  appeal  was  forceful,  and  the  very  men  who  had 
stood  like  heroes  against  hardships  and  had  fought  poverty 
with  a  grim,  unyielding  will-power,  the  same  men  fell  now 
before  Darley  Champers'  smooth  advances. 


198  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"  Our  company's  chartered  with  no  end  of  stock  for  sale 
now  that  in  six  months  will  be  out  of  sight  above  par  and 
can't  be  bought  for  no  price.  It's  your  time  to  invest  now. 
You  can  easy  mortgage  your  farms  to  raise  the  money, 
seem'  you  can  knock  the  mortgage  off  so  quick  and  have 
abundance  left  over,  if  you  use  your  heads  'stead  of  your 
tired  legs  to  make  money  out  of  your  land." 

Cyrus  Bennington  and  Todd  Stewart  and  Jim  Shirley, 
with  others,  were  sitting  upright  with  alert  faces  now. 
Booms  were  making  men  rich  all  over  Kansas.  Why  should 
prosperity  not  come  to  this  valley  as  well?  It  was  not 
impossible,  surely.  Only  the  unpleasant  memory  of 
Champers'  holding  back  the  supplies  in  the  days  when  the 
grasshopper  was  a  burden  would  intrude  on  the  minds  of 
the  company  tonight.  Champers  was  shrewd  to  remember 
also,  and  he  played  his  game  daringly  as  well  as  cautiously. 

"Maybe  some  of  you  fellows  haven't  felt  right  toward 
me  sometimes,"  he  said.  "I  hate  to  tell  it  now,  but  justice 
is  justice.  The  truth  is,  it  was  a  friend  of  yours  who 
advised  me  not  to  let  any  supplies  come  your  way,  time  of 
the  grasshopper  raid.  I  listened  to  him  then  and  didn't 
know  no  better'n  to  be  run  by  him  till  I  see  his  scheme  to 
kill  Wykerton  an'  build  a  town  for  hisself.  He'll  deny 
it  now,  declare  he  never  done  it,  and  he'll  not  do  a  thing 
for  your  town  down  here.  See  if  he  does.  But  it's  Gawd's 
truth,  he  held  me  back  so's  he  could  run  you  his  way.  It's 
your  turn  to  listen  to  me  now  and  believe  me,  too." 

And  well  they  listened,  especially  the  men  who  still  owed 
John  Jacobs  for  the  loan  of  1874. 

"You  can  have  a  boom  right  here  that'll  make  you  all 
rich  men  inside  of  a  year.  Why  not  turn  capitalists  your- 


The  Fat  Years  199 


selves  for  a  while,  you  hard-working  farmers.  Money  is 
easy  and  credit  long,  now.  Take  your  chance  at  it  and 
make  five  hundred  per  cent  on  your  investments.  I'm 
ready  to  take  subscriptions  for  stock  in  this  new  town  right 
now.  Why  not  stop  this  snail's  pace  of  earnin'  and  go  to 
livin'  like  gentlemen  —  like  some  Carey ville  men  I  know 
who  own  hundreds  of  acres  they  never  earned  and  they 
won't  improve  so's  to  help  others  ?  " 

"You're  right  there,"  a  farmer  sitting  beside  Asher 
Aydelot  called  out.  "We  all  know  how  Carey  ville  got 
her  start.  It's  kept  some  of  us  poor  doing  it.  I'll  invest 
in  Town  Company  stock  right  now." 

Asher  Aydelot  turned  toward  the  speaker  in  surprise. 

"Jacobs  helped  you  out  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us  in  the 
drouth  and  grasshopper  time  of  seventy-four,"  he  said. 
"What's  your  grievance  against  him  now?" 

"Yes,  and  hung  onto  me  like  a  leech  of  a  Jew  ever 
since,"  the  man  muttered. 

"Because  you  never  paid  either  interest  or  principal. 
And  Jacobs  has  carried  you  along  and  waited  your  time," 
Asher  asserted  frankly. 

But  the  farmer  plunged  into  the  discussion  again,  not 
realizing  that  his  grudge  against  Careyville  was  the  out 
growth  of  his  own  shortcomings. 

"  Take  this  site  right  here  in  the  middle  of  your  neigh 
borhood  where  you've  already  got  your  church  and  your 
schoolhouse,  and  your  graveyard,"  Champers  declared. 
"Aydelot  here  gave  part  of  it  and  Pryor  Gaines  the  rest. 
Gaines  don't  farm  it  any  more  himself,  it's  most  too  big 
a  job  for  a  man  of  brains  like  him.  And  that  quarter  across 
the  river  that  used  to  be  all  sand,  you  own  that  now, 


200  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Aydelot,  don't  you?  What  did  you  think  of  doin'  with  it 
now?" 

"  I  think  I'll  set  it  in  alfalfa  this  fall,"  Asher  replied. 

"Yes,  yes,  now  these  two  make  the  very  site  we  want. 
You  are  lucky,  for  you  are  ready  right  now  to  start  things. 
How  much  stock  do  you  want,  Aydelot,  and  how  will  you 
sell?" 

As  Asher  listened  he  seemed  to  see  the  whole  scheme  of 
the  town  builder  bare  itself  before  him,  and  he  wondered 
at  the  credulity  of  his  neighbors. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  standing  before  them,  "it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  put  yourself  against  neighborhood  senti 
ment  and  not  seem  to  be  selfish.  But  as  I  was  the  first  man 
in  this  valley  and  have  known  every  man  who  settled  here 
since,  I  ought  to  be  well  enough  known  to  you  to  need  no 
certificate  of  good  moral  character  here.  I  offer  no  crit 
icism  on  the  proposition  before  you.  You  are  as  capable 
of  judging  as  I  am.  The  end  may  show  you  more  capable, 
but  I  decline  to  buy  stock,  or  to  donate,  or  sell  any  land 
for  a  townsite  at  the  deep  bend  of  Grass  River.  A  man's 
freehold  is  his  own." 

Asher's  influence  had  led  in  Grass  River  affairs  for  years. 
But  Darley  Champers  had  the  crowd  in  the  hollow  of  his 
paw  tonight. 

"How  about  Gaines?"  he  demanded.  "You  join  him 
on  the  south.  You  ought  to  know  some  of  his  notions." 

"Gaines  has  no  land  to  consider,"  Asher  said  frankly. 
"He  sold  it  more  than  a  year  ago." 

"You  mean  the  Jew  foreclosed  on  the  preacher,  don't 
you?"  someone  said  sarcastically. 

"You'll  have  to  ask  the  preacher,"  Asher  replied  good- 


The  Fat  Years 


naturedly.  "I  didn't  understand  it  so  at  the  time.  But 
as  for  myself,  I'm  no  boomer.  I  stand  for  the  prosperity 
that  builds  from  day  to  day,  and  stays  built.  The  values 
here  are  in  the  soil,  not  in  the  shining  bubbles  that  glitter 
and  burst  on  top  of  it.  You'll  have  to  count  me  out  of 
your  scheme.  I'm  a  farmer  still.  So  I'll  wish  you  all  good 
luck  and  good  night." 

"Good  night,  I  must  go  with  papa,"  Thaine  Aydelot 
said,  springing  up  from  his  play  outside. 

"  No,  you've  got  to  stay  here.  Hold  him,  Leigh,"  Jo 
Bennington  commanded,  clutching  at  Thaine's  arm. 

Leigh  sat  calmly  disobedient. 

"He's  his  papa's  boy,  I  guess,  and  he  ought  to  go," 
she  asserted. 

"  You  meany,  meany,"  Jo  whispered,  "  I  don't  like  you." 

But  Leigh  paid  little  heed  to  her  opinion. 

As  Asher  passed  out  of  the  room  there  was  an  ugly  look 
in  Darley  Champers'  eyes. 

"No  more  ambition  than  a  cat.  One  of  them  quiet, 
good-natured  fellers  that  are  as  stubborn  as  the  devil  once 
they  take  a  stand.  Just  a  danged  clod-hopper  farmer,  but 
he  don't  leave  no  enemies  behind  him.  That's  enough  to 
make  any  man  hate  him.  He's  balked  twice  when  I  tried 
to  drive.  I'll  not  be  fooled  by  him  always." 

So  Champers  thought  as  he  watched  Asher  Aydelot  walk 
out  of  the  room.  And  in  the  silence  that  followed  his 
going  the  company  heard  him  through  the  open  window 
whistling  some  old  patriotic  air  as  he  strode  away  in  the 
June  moonlight  with  little  Thaine  trotting  beside  him. 

"Shirley,  where  is  Pryor  tonight?"  Cyrus  Bennington 
broke  the  silence  with  the  query. 


202  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"I  couldn't  get  him  to  come;  said  he  had  no  land  for 
sale  nor  money  to  invest,"  Jim  replied. 

"Then  Jacobs  got  him  at  last.  Fine  friend  to  you 
fellers,  that  man  Jacobs.  Easy  to  see  what  he  wants.  He 
ain't  boomin'  no  place  but  Careyville,"  Champers  snarled. 
"But  the  deep  bend  ain't  the  only  bend  in  Grass  River. 
Or  do  you  want  to  shove  prosperity  away  when  it  comes 
right  to  your  door?" 

Nobody  wants  to  do  that.  Least  of  all  did  the  Kansas 
settlers  of  the  boom  days  turn  away  from  the  promise  of 
a  fortune. 

So  the  boom  came  to  the  Grass  River  Valley  as  other 
disasters  had  come  before  it.  Where  a  decade  and  a  half 
ago  Asher  and  Virginia  Aydelot  had  lived  alone  writh  each 
other  and  God,  in  the  heart  of  the  wide  solitary  wilderness, 
the  town  of  Cloverdale  was  staked  out  now  over  the  prairie. 

Stock  in  the  new  venture  sold  rapidly,  and  nobody  ever 
knew  how  much  clear  profit  came  to  Champers  &  Co.  from 
this  venture.  A  big  slice  of  the  Cloverdale  ranch  went  into 
the  staking  of  the  new  city,  and  prosperity  seemed  wedded 
to  Jim  Shirley.  He  ceased  farming  and  became  a  specu 
lator  with  dreams  of  millions  in  his  brain.  Other  settlers 
followed  his  example  until  the  fever  had  infected  every  man 
in  the  community  except  Asher  Aydelot,  who  would  not 
give  up  to  it,  and  Pryor  Gaines,  who  had  nothing  to 
give  up. 

Everything  fell  out  as  advertised.  The  railroad  grade 
swelled  up  like  a  great  welt  across  the  land,  seemingly  in 
a  day.  Suburban  additions  radiated  for  miles  in  every 
direction.  Bonds  were  voted  for  light  and  water  and  public 
buildings  and  improvements.  Speculators  rushed  to  invest 


The  Fat  Years  203 


and  unload  their  investments  at  a  profit.  The  Grass  River 
Farmers'  Company  built  the  Grass  River  Creamery.  And 
because  it  looked  big  and  good  they  built  the  Grass  River 
Sugar  Factory  and  the  Grass  River  Elevator.  But  while 
they  were  building  their  money  into  stone  and  machinery 
they  forgot  to  herd  cattle  to  supply  the  creamery  and  to 
grow  cane  for  the  sugar  product  and  to  sow  and  reap  grain 
to  be  elevated. 

Also,  the  Cloverdale  Farmers'  Company,  made  up  mostly 
of  the  members  of  the  Grass  River  Farmers'  Company, 
built  the  Cloverdale  Hotel,  and  the  Cloverdale  State  Bank, 
and  the  Cloverdale  Office  Block.  And  the  sad  part  of  it 
all  was  that  mortgaged  and  doubly  mortgaged  farms  and 
not  the  price  of  crops  had  furnished  the  capital  for  the 
boom  building. 

It  is  an  old  story  now,  and  none  too  interesting  —  the 
story  of  a  boom  town,  founded  on  prairie  breezes  and  built 
out  of  fortune  seekers'  dreams. 

Meanwhile,  Asher  Aydelot,  watching  the  sudden  easy 
prosperity  of  his  neighbors,  fought  down  the  temptation 
to  join  them  and  resolutely  strove  with  the  soil  for  its 
best  yield.  The  drouth  and  hot  winds  had  not  forgotten 
all  their  old  tricks,  and  even  the  interest  on  his  mortgage 
could  not  be  met  promptly  sometimes.  Yet  with  the  same 
old  Aydelot  tenacity  with  which  his  father  had  held  Clover- 
dale  in  Ohio  away  from  the  old  farm  beside  the  National 
pike  road,  the  son  of  this  father  held  the  boundary  of 
the  Sunflower  Ranch  intact,  nor  yielded  up  one  acre  to  be 
platted  into  a  suburban  addition  to  the  new  Cloverdale  in 
the  Grass  River  Valley  in  Kansas.  And  all  the  while  the 
Aydelot  windbreaks  strengthened ;  the  Aydelot  grove  struck 


204  Winning  the  Wilderness 

deeper  root ;  the  long  corn  furrows  and  the  acres  on  acres 
of  broken  wheat  stubble  of  the  Sunflower  Ranch  wooed  the 
heavier  rainfall,  narrowing  the  sand  dunes  and  deepening 
the  water  courses. 

For  two  brief  years  Cloverdale,  in  the  Grass  River  Valley 
in  Kansas,  had  a  name,  even  in  the  Eastern  money  markets. 
Speculation  became  madness;  and  riotous  commercialism 
had  its  little  hour  of  strut  and  rave. 

Then  the  bubble  burst,  and  all  that  the  boom  had  prom- 
ised  fell  to  nothingness.  Many  farms  were  mortgaged, 
poor  crops  worked  tribulation,  taxes  began  to  eat  up  acres 
of  weed-grown  vacant  town  lots,  Eastern  money  was  with 
drawn  to  other  markets,  speculators  departed,  the  strange 
enthusiasm  burned  itself  out,  and  the  Wilderness  came  again 
to  the  Grass  River  Valley.  Not  the  old  Wilderness  of  lone 
liness,  and  drouth,  and  grasshoppers,  and  prairie  fires  that 
had  dared  the  pioneer  to  conquest ;  but  the  Prairie,  waiting 
again  the  kingly  hand  on  the  plow  handle,  gave  no  quarter 
to  him  whom  the  gilded  boom  had  lured  to  shipwreck. 


PART  TWO 


THE  SON 

Give  me  the  land  where  miles  of  wheat 
Ripple  beneath  the  wind's  light  feet, 
Where  the  green  armies  of  the  corn 
Sway  in  the  first  sweet  breath  of  morn; 
Give  me  the  large  and  liberal  land 
Of  the  open  heart  and  the  generous  hand; 
Under  the  wide-spaced  Kansas  sky 
Let  me  live  and  let  me  die. 

—HARRY  A.  KEMP. 


205 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  ROLLCALJL 

Nothing  is  too  late 

Until  the  tired  Heart  shall  cease  to  palpitate. 

— LONGFELLOW. 

THE  twilight  had  fallen  on  the  prairie.  Grass  River, 
running  bank  full  from  the  heavy  May  rains,  lay 
like  a  band  of  molten  silver  glistening  in  the  after-sunset 
light.  The  draw,  once  choked  with  wild  plum  bushes  in  the 
first  days  of  the  struggle  in  the  wilderness,  was  the  outlet 
now  to  the  little  lake  that  nestled  in  the  heart  of  the 
Aydelot  grove.  The  odors  of  early  summer  came  faintly 
on  the  soft  twilight  breeze.  Somewhere  among  the  cotton- 
woods  a  bird  called  a  tender  goodnight  to  its  mate.  Upon 
the  low  swell  the  lights  were  beginning  to  twinkle  from  the 
windows  of  the  Aydelot  home,  and  the  sounds  of  voices 
and  of  hurrying  footsteps  told  of  something  unusual  going 
on  within.  Asher  Aydelot,  driving  down  the  old  Grass 
River  trail,  saw  from  far  away  the  windows  of  his  home 
beginning  to  glow  like  beacons  in  the  twilight.  Beyond  it 
was  the  glimmer  of  the  waters  of  the  river  and  before  it 
spread  the  mile-long  grove,  dim  and  shadowy  in  the  mist- 
folds  rising  up  from  the  prairie. 

"A  man  can  win  a  kingdom  in  the  West,  I  told  my 
mother  one  spring  evening  long  ago,"  he  murmured  as  his 
eyes  took  in  the  view.  "It's  surely  more  like  a  kingdom 
now  than  it  was  when  we  came  down  this  trail  a  quarter  of 
a  century  ago.  Twenty-five  good  years  of  life,  but  it's 

207 


208  Winning  the  Wilderness 

worth  the  effort,  and  we  are  just  now  at  the  opening  of  our 
best  years.  A  man's  real  usefulness  begins  at  fifty.  This 
is  more  like  a  kingdom,  too,  than  it  was  ten  years  ago 
when  those  old  hulks  of  wrecks  that  strew  the  prairie  down 
the  river  were  banks,  and  hotels,  and  opera  houses,  and 
factories  of  boomed-up  Cloverdale.  We  are  doing  some 
thing  for  the  land.  I  hope  our  boy  will  make  up  his  mind 
to  want  to  keep  it  when  his  time  comes." 

He  lifted  his  head  bravely,  as  if  to  throw  off  all  doubt, 
and  tightening  the  reins  on  his  horses  he  swung  away 
down  the  trail  toward  the  home  lights  shining  in  the 
gathering  gloom. 

As  he  neared  the  house  Thaine  Aydelot  leaped  from 
the  side  porch  and  hurried  toward  him. .  Climbing  into  the 
moving  wagon,  he  put  one  hand  affectionately  on  his 
father's  shoulder. 

"Don't  you  know  whose  birthday  this  is?"  he  inquired 
wTith  serious  countenance,  "  and  you've  not  spoken  to  me 
all  day." 

"  I  know  my  boy  is  nineteen  today  and  expects  to  have 
a  birthday  party  here  tonight,  and  that  I  left  him  asleep 
when  I  started  to  town  this  forenoon  about  nine  o'clock." 

"Nine  cats!  You  left  at  six  sharp  to  go  with  John 
Jacobs  over  to  Wolf  Creek  after  what  you  never  got, 
judging  from  this  empty  wagon.  And  I  had  half  of  the 
feeding  done  when  you  left  the  house  here.  I  saw  you 
when  I  was  out  by  the  old  stone  corral  looking  after  the 
pigs,  but  they  squealed  so  loud  you  could  not  hear  me 
telling  you  goodby." 

"  All  pigs  squeal  alike  to  me,"  Asher  began,  but  Thaine 
choked  him  to  silence. 


The  Rollcall  209 


"  Hurry  up  and  get  togged  out  for  the  party,"  he 
urged.  "The  Benningtons  will  be  over  early.  Jo's  been 
here  all  day.  I'll  take  care  of  the  horses.  Hike!" 

"Be  sure  to  rub  them  down.  They  had  to  pull  hard 
today,"  Asher  called  back  as  he  went  up  the  walk  toward 
the  house. 

"  Oh,  fiddle !  Always  take  care  of  a  horse  like  it  was  a 
prize  poodle.  Farms  like  he  was  decorating  chinaware. 
Good  enough  dad,  but  too  particular.  Me  for  the  State 
University  and  the  professional  or  military  life.  This 
ranch  is  all  right  for  Asher  Aydelot,  but  it's  pretty  blamed 
slow  for  T.  A.  And  Jo  Bennington  doesn't  like  a  farm 
either,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

In  the  superiority  of  his  youth  Thaine  fumed  at  his 
father's  commands,  but  failed  not  to  obey  them.  He  was 
just  nineteen,  as  tall  as  his  father,  and  brawny  with  the 
strength  of  the  outdoors  life  of  the  prairie  ranch.  Strength 
of  character  was  not  expressed  in  his  face  so  much  as  the 
promise  of  strength  with  the  right  conditions  for  its  devel 
opment  in  future  days.  His  features  were  his  mother's 
set  in  masculine  lines,  with  the  same  abundant  dark  hair, 
the  same  lustrous  dark  eyes,  the  same  straight  nose  and 
well-formed  chin.  The  same  imperious  will  of  all  the 
Thames  to  do  as  he  chose  was  his  heritage,  too,  and  he 
walked  the  prairies  like  a  king. 

"  The  real  story  of  the  plains  is  the  story  of  the  second 
generation ;  the  real  romance  here  will  be  Thaine  Aydelot's 
romance,  for  he  was  born  here." 

So  Virginia  Aydelot  had  declared  on  the  day  she  had 
gone  to  visit  the  Bennington  baby,  Josephine,  and  coming 
home  had  met  Asher  with  little  Thaine  beside  Mercy  Pen- 


210  Winning  the  Wilderness 

nington's  grave.  Sorrow  for  the  dead  had  become  a  tender 
memory  that  day,  and  joy  in  the  living  made  life  full  of 
hope. 

In  Virginia's  mind  a  pretty  romance  was  begun  in  which 
Thaine  and  Josephine  were  central  figures.  For  mothers 
will  evermore  weave  romances  for  their  children  so  long 
as  the  memory  of  their  own  romance  lives. 

The  time  of  the  second  generation  came  swiftly,  even 
before  the  wilderness  of  the  father's  day  had  been  driven 
entirely  from  the  prairie.  Some  compensation  for  the  loss 
of  eastern  advantages  belonged  to  the  simple  life  of  the 
plains  children.  If  they  lacked  the  culture  of  city  society 
they  were  also  without  its  frivolity  and  temptations.  What 
the  prairies  denied  them  in  luxuries  they  matched  with  a 
resourcefulness  to  meet  their  needs.  Something  of  the 
breadth  of  the  landscape  and  of  the  free  sweeping  winds 
of  heaven  gave  them  breadth  and  power  to  look  the  world 
squarely  in  the  face,  and  to  measure  it  at  its  true  value, 
when  their  hour  for  action  came. 

The  Grass  River  children  could  ride  like  Plains  Indians. 
They  could  cut  a  steer  out  of  a  herd  and  prevent  or  escape 
a  stampede.  They  had  no  fear  of  distance,  nor  storm,  nor 
prairie  fire,  nor  blizzard.  Because  their  opportunities  were 
few,  they  squandered  them  the  less.  Matched  against  the 
city-bred  young  folks  their  talents  differed  in  kind,  not  in 
number,  nor  in  character-value. 

Tonight  the  Aydelots  were  to  give  a  party  in  honor  of 
Thaine's  birthday,  and  the  farmhouse  was  dressed  for  the 
occasion.  Thaine  had  been  busy  all  day  carrying  furniture 
in  or  out,  mowing  the  front  lawn  where  the  old  double 
fire-guard  once  lay,  and  fixing  a  seat  under  the  white  honey- 


The  Rollcall 


suckle  trellis,  "  for  the  afflicted  ones,"  he  declared  to  pretty 
Jo  Bennington.  Jo's  blush  was  becoming.  Thaine  felt 
sure  that  he  must  be  in  love  with  her.  All  the  other  boys 
were,  too,  he  knew  that  well  enough. 

"What's  going  on  in  the  dining  room?"  Asher  asked, 
as  he  sat  at  supper  with  Virginia  in  the  kitchen. 

"The  decorating  committee  is  fixing  it  up  for  dancing. 
Bo  Peep  is  coming  with  his  fiddle  and  there'll  be  a  sound 
of  revelry  by  night." 

"Who's  the  decorating  committee?"  Asher  inquired. 

"Jo  Bennington  is  helping  Thaine,  and  our  new  hired 
girl,  Rosie  Gimpke,  from  over  on  Little  Wolf.  She  came 
this  morning  just  after  you  left,"  Virginia  replied.  "  She 
acts  and  looks  like  she'd  never  had  a  kind  word  spoken  to 
her." 

"Rosie  Gimpke  must  be  Hans  Wyker's  granddaughter. 
There's  a  nest  of  them  over  on  Little  Wolf.  They  give 
John  Jacobs  no  end  of  trouble,  but  you  must  have  help," 
Asher  said  thoughtfully. 

Virginia's  mind  was  not  on  hired  help,  however,  as  the 
sound  of  laughter  came  from  the  dining  room. 

"The  bridal  wreath  and  snowballs  make  it  look  like  a 
wedding  was  expected  in  there,"  she  declared. 

"  Will  the  Arnolds  and  the  Archibalds  be  up  ?  Have  you 
heard  from  the  Spoopendykes  and  the  Gilliwigs?"  Asher 
inquired  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh,  Asher !  What  a  change  since  the  days  when  we 
invented  parties  for  our  lonely  evenings  here!  What  has 
become  of  the  old  prairie?" 

"It's  out  there  still,  under  the  wheat  fields.  We  have 
driven  the  wilderness  back;  plowed  a  fireguard  around  the 


212  Winning  the  Wilderness 

whole  valley ;  tempered  the  hot  winds  by  windbreaks  and 
groves." 

"It  seems  impossible  that  there  ever  was  a  one-room 
sod  cabin  here,  and  only  you  and  I  and  Jim  and  faithful  old 
Pilot  in  all  the  valley." 

"  Since  so  many  things  have  come  true  it  may  be  that 
many  more  will  also  by  the  time  Thaine  is  as  old  as  I  was 
when  I  came  out  here  and  thought  the  Lord  had  forgotten 
all  about  this  prairie  until  I  reminded  Him  of  it.  We  can 
almost  forget  the  hard  work  and  the  waiting  for  results," 
Asher  said. 

"  Oh,  we  don't  want  to  forget,"  Virginia  replied.  "  Not 
a  season's  joy  or  sorrow  but  had  its  uses  for  us.  Do  you 
remember  that  first  supper  here  and  the  sunflowers  in  the 
old  tin  can  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  Jim  sitting  outside  so  lonely.  What  a  bless 
ing  Leigh  has  been  to  his  life.  There  they  come  now." 

The  next  moment  Jim's  tall  form  filled  the   doorway. 

"Good  evening,  folks.  I  can't  resist  the  habit  of  the 
sod  shack  days  to  come  right  into  the  kitchen.  I  under 
stand  that  we  forty-niners  are  to  have  an  old  settlers' 
reunion  while  the  young  folks  dance,"  he  said. 

There  were  lines  of  care  on  his  face  now,  suggesting  a 
bodily  weariness  that  might  never  grow  less.  The  old 
hopefulness  and  purpose  seemed  fading  away.  But  the 
kindly  light  of  the  eyes  had  not  disappeared,  nor  the  direct 
gaze  of  an  honest  man  whose  judgment  might  bring  him 
to  tragedy,  while  his  sense  of  honor  was  still  sublime. 

"Come  in,  Jim.  Where  are  Pryor  and  Leigh?  Did 
you  take  it  you  were  all  we  expected  ?  "  Asher  asked. 

"Leigh  went  in  the  front  door  like  a  Christian.     As  to 


The  Rollcall  213 


Pryor,"  he  hesitated  a  moment.  "I'll  tell  you  later  about 
him." 

"Take  this  chair.  I  must  help  the  children,"  Virginia 
said  cordially  as  she  rose  and  left  the  kitchen. 

Leigh  Shirley  was  coming  from  the  front  hall  as  she 
entered  the  dining  room,  and  Virginia  paused  a  moment 
to  look  at  her.  Something  about  Leigh  made  most  people 
want  more  than  a  glance.  Tonight,  as  she  stood  in  the 
doorway,  Virginia  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  pink 
roses  that  grew  in  the  rose  garden  of  the  old  Thaine  man 
sion  house  of  her  girlhood.  A  vision  swept  across  her 
memory  of  Asher  Aydelot  —  just  Thaine's  age  then  —  of 
a  moonlit  night,  sweet  with  the  odor  of  many  blossoms, 
and  the  tinkling  waters  of  the  fountain  in  the  rose  garden, 
and  herself  a  happy  young  girl. 

Leigh's  fair  face  was  set  in  the  golden  brown  shadows 
of  her  hair.  On  either  side  of  her  square  white  forehead 
the  sunny  ripples  kept  the  only  memory  of  the  golden 
curls  of  babyhood.  The  darker  eyebrows  and  heavy  lashes 
and  the  deep  violet-blue  eyes,  the  pink  bloom  of  the  cheeks, 
and  the  resolute  mouth  gave  to  Leigh's  face  all  the  charm 
of  the  sweet  young  girl.  But  the  deeper  charm  that 
claimed  the  steady  gaze  lay  in  the  spirit  back  of  the  face, 
in  the  self-reliance  and  penetrating  power,  combined  with 
something  of  the  artist's  dreams ;  and  swayed  altogether 
by  genuine  good  nature  and  good  will. 

Tonight  she  wore  a  simple  white  gown  revealing  her 
white  throat  and  the  line  of  her  neck  and  shoulder.  White 
flowers  nestled  in  the  folds  of  her  hair,  and  the  whole  effect 
enhanced  the  dainty  coloring  of  cheeks  and  lips.  Leigh 
had  an  artist's  eye  in  dress  and  knew  by  instinct  what  to 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


wear.  She  had  an  artist's  hand  also,  as  her  mother  had 
had  before  her,  and  was  far  more  skilled  in  the  painting  of 
prairie  landscapes  than  any  of  the  Grass  River  folk 
dreamed  of. 

Thaine  was  busy  on  the  top  of  the  stepladder  and  did 
not  see  Leigh  as  she  came  in.  Jo  Bennington,  who  was 
holding  sprays  of  spirea  for  him  to  festoon  above  the 
window,  stared  at  Leigh  until  Thaine,  waiting  for  the 
flowers,  turned  to  see  the  pink-cheeked  living  picture  framed 
against  the  shadows  of  the  hall  behind  her. 

"I  thought  you  were  coming  early  to  help  us.  This 
Gimpke  girl  doesn't  know  how  to  do  a  thing,"  Jo  exclaimed. 

If  her  voice  was  a  trifle  high-pitched  it  was  not  out  of 
keeping  with  her  brilliant  coloring  and  dashing  manners. 
Even  the  thoughtless  rebuke  of  the  Gimpke  girl  seemed 
excusable  from  her  lips,  and  Rosie  Gimpke  looked  at  her 
with  unblinking  eyes. 

"  You  can  put  on  my  apron  and  finish,  but  don't  change 
a  thing,  now  mind.  I'll  go  and  dress.  I  brought  my 
whole  wardrobe  over  early  in  the  week,"  Jo  rattled  on,  and 
thrusting  her  gingham  apron  into  Leigh's  hands  she  dashed 
through  the  hall  toward  the  stairway. 

Rosie  Gimpke,  the  tow-headed  image  of  her  mother, 
Gretchen  Wyker,  stared  at  Leigh,  who  smiled  back  at  her. 
Rosie  was  stupid  and  ignorant,  but  she  knew  the  difference 
between  Jo  Bennington's  frown  and  Leigh  Shirley's  smile. 
A  saving  thing,  the  smile  of  good  will,  and  worth  its  cost 
in  any  market. 

"  Shall  I  help  you  too,  or  shall  Rosie  and  I  look  after 
the  refreshments?"  Virginia  asked  as  she  greeted  Leigh. 

"No,   run   along   and   get   dressed.      Rosie   knows   just 


The  Rollcall  215 


how  to  fix  things  in  the  kitchen,  and  I  never  need  anybody 
else  if  Leigh  can  help  me,"  Thaine  declared.  "How  is 
this,  Leigh?" 

Leigh  gave  a  quick  glance  and  answered : 
"  Too  heavy  everywhere  ?     Can  we  fix  it  right  ?  " 
"  You  bet  we  can.    I'm  not  going  to  have  a  thing  wrong 
tonight,"   Thaine  answered  her.      "But  Jo   fixed  it,  and 
you  know  Jo." 

Leigh  made  no  reply,  but  went  about  the  rearrangement 
with  swift  artistic  skill;  while  Jo,  who  had  changed  her 
mind  about  being  in  a  hurry,  slipped  down  stairs  to  the 
dining  room  again.  At  the  doorway  she  discovered  the 
undoing  of  her  work.  For  a  minute  or  two  she  watched 
the  pair,  then  passed  unnoticed  up  stairs  again.  Leigh 
Shirley  was  the  only  girl  who  ever  dared  to  oppose  Jo, 
and  she  did  it  so  quietly  and  completely  that  Jo  could 
only  ignore  her.  She  could  not  retaliate. 

"Jo  Bennington,  you  are  the  prettiest  girl  in  Kansas, 
and  I  claim  the  first  dance  and  the  last,  and  some  in-betweens, 
right  now,"  Thaine  declared  when  she  appeared  again. 

Jo  was  tall  and  graceful  and  imperious  in  her  manner. 
The  oldest  and  handsomest  child  in  a  large  family,  she  had 
had  her  own  way  at  home  and  with  her  associates  all  her 
life.  Her  world  was  made  to  give  way  to  her  from  the 
beginning,  until  nothing  seemed  possible  or  popular  with 
out  her  sanction.  Tonight  her  heavy  black  hair  was  coiled 
in  braids  about  her  head,  her  black  eyes  were  full  of 
youthful  glow  and  her  cheeks  were  like  June  roses.  She 
wore  a  pink  lawn  dress  vastly  becoming  to  her  style,  and 
a  string  of  old-fashioned  pearl  beads  was  wound  through 
her  dark  braids. 


216  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"You'd  better  make  amends  for  spoiling  all  my  pretty 
work  as  you  and  Leigh  have  done,"  she  said  in  reply  to 
Thaine's  frank  compliment.  "I'll  make  it  a  few  more 
dances,  for  you  do  dance  better  than  any  of  the  other 
boys  —  " 

"  Except  Todd  Stewart,  Junior,"  the  owner  of  the  name, 
who  had  just  come  in,  declared.  "  There  is  to  be  a  birthday 
party  and  an  old  settlers'  meeting,  and  maybe  a  French 
duel  or  two  before  midnight.  I  remember  when  I  was  the 
only  kid  in  the  Grass  River  Valley.  There  were  others  at 
first,  but  I  always  thought  the  grasshoppers  or  Darley 
Champers  ate  'em.  And  Jo  is  the  first  white  girl  baby 
born  in  captivity  here.  We'll  lead  the  opening  of  this  ball 
or  shoot  up  the  ranch.  You  can  have  Jo  for  the  last 
dance,  Thaine,  my  son,  but  me  first." 

"Oh,  that's  fine,"  Jo  declared  as  Thaine  was  about  to 
protest.  "  Serves  you  right  for  spoiling  my  decorations. 
But,  Thaine,  I  claim  you  for  the  in-betweens  and  the  last. 
Let's  take  one  more  look  at  the  refreshments  —  that  Gimpke 
girl  may  have  them  all  in  a  mess  by  this  time." 

There  was  a  rush  for  the  kitchen,  where  Leigh  Shirley 
was  already  showing  Rosie  how  to  keep  the  table  of  dishes 
in  order. 

Meanwhile,  Asher  Aydelot  had  gone  out  to  the  seat 
Thaine  had  put  up  under  the  honeysuckle  trellis. 

"  It  is  early  for  the  crowd,  Virgie.  Come  here  and 
watch  Boanerges  Peeperville  tuning  up,"  Asher  Aydelot 
said  as  Virginia  stood  on  the  veranda  a  little  later. 

She  came  out  to  the  seat  under  a  bower  of  sweet  white 
honeysuckle  and  sat  down  beside  her  husband. 

"  The  same  Bo  Peep  of  the  old  Virginia  days,  only  he 


The  Eollcall  217 


was  a  half-grown  boy  then,"  she  said,  watching  the  Negro 
bending  above  his  violin.  "  How  faithfully  he  has  served 
Dr.  Carey  all  these  years.  He's  past  forty  now.  Asher, 
we  are  all  getting  along." 

"With  a  boy  nineteen  tonight,  how  can  it  be  other 
wise?"  Asher  replied.  "But  when  the  Carey ville  crowd 
gets  here  I'm  going  to  ask  you  for  a  dance,  anyhow.  Miss 
Thaine." 

Virginia  stood  in  the  moonlight  and  looked  out  over 
the  prairie  slumbering  in  a  silver-broidered  robe  of  evening 
mist. 

"  How  fast  the  years  have  gone.  Do  you  remember  the 
night  in  the  old  Thaine  home  in  Virginia  when  you  were 
our  guest  —  too  sick  to  dance?"  she  asked. 

Asher  caught  her  arm  and  drew  her  to  the  seat  beside 
him. 

"I  remember  the  jessamine  vines  and  the  arbor  at  the 
end  of  the  rose  garden." 

"  We  are  not  old  until  we  forget  our  own  romance  days," 
Virginia  said.  "You  were  my  hero  that  night.  You  are 
my  hero  still." 

"Even  with  a  son  as  old  now  as  I  was  that  night? 
The  real  romance  of  the  prairie,  you've  said  it  often, 
Virgie,  is  Thaine  Aydelot's  romance.  There's  little  chance 
for  the  rest  of  us." 

The  coming  of  the  guests  just  then  called  the  host  and 
hostess  to  the  parlor,  and  the  evening's  festivities  began. 

In  the  building  of  the  Aydelot  home  there  was  a  memory 
of  the  old  farmhouse  beside  the  National  pike  road  in 
Ohio  and  the  old  Thaine  mansion  house  of  the  South.  The 
picture  the  mirage  had  revealed  to  Virginia  Aydelot  on 


218  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  afternoon  when  she  rode  the  long  lonely  miles  from 
Wykerton  with  John  Jacob's  message  of  hope  in  her 
keeping  —  that  wonderful  mirage  picture  had  grown 
toward  a  reality  with  the  slowly  winning  years.  Tonight, 
with  the  lighted  rooms  and  the  music  of  the  violin,  and  the 
sound  of  laughter  and  the  rhythm  of  dancing  feet,  and 
outside  the  May  moonlight  on  the  veranda  with  its  vine- 
draped  columns,  and  the  big  elm  trees  throwing  long 
shadows  down  the  lawn,  with  the  odor  of  plowed  fields  and 
blossoming  grain  and  shrub  mingled  with  the  perfume 
floating  from  the  creamy  catalpa  blooms  in  the  shadowy 
grove,  all  made  a  picture  not  unworthy  to  hang  beside  the 
painting  of  an  Ohio  landscape  or  an  old  Virginia  mansion. 

"Here's  where  the  forty-niners  get  the  best  of  it,"  Jim 
Shirley  declared,  as  the  older  men  gathered  about  the 
veranda  steps.  "We're  dead  certain  of  ourselves  now. 
We're  not  like  those  youngsters  in  there  with  their  battles 
before  'em." 

"  There  hasn't  been  such  a  gathering  as  this  in  ten  years. 
Not  since  the  night  Darley  Champers  herded  us  into  the 
schoolhouse  and  blew  a  boom  down  our  throats  through 
a  goosequill,"  Cyrus  Bennington  declared. 

"  See  that  black  thing  away  across  the  prairie  east  of 
Aydelot's  grove.  Wait  till  the  moon  gets  out  from  that 
cloud.  Now!"  Todd  Stewart  directed  the  eyes  of  all  to 
a  tall  black  object  distinct  in  the  moonlight. 

"That's  the  Cloverdale  Farmers'  Company's  elevator. 
Looks  like  a  lighthouse  stretching  up  in  that  sea  of  wheat." 

"There  are  plenty  of  derelicts  in  that  sea  as  well  as 
some  human  derelicts  left  afloat,"  Jim  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"Let's  take  the  census." 


The  Rollcall  219 


"Begin  with  Darley  Champers,"  Asher  suggested. 

"  Not  present.     Who  got  his  excuse  ?  "  Jim  inquired. 

"  He  sent  it  by  me,"  Horace  Carey  spoke  up.  "  Business 
still  keeping  him  busy.  He's  a  humane  man." 

"Up  to  a  point  he  is,"  John  Jacobs  broke  in.  "Let's 
be  fair.  He  is  a  large-sized  boomer  and  a  small-sized  rascal. 
A  few  deals  won't  bear  the  light  of  day,  but  mainly  they 
are  inside  the  law.  I've  let  him  handle  all  but  my  grazing 
land  around  Wykerton.  He's  done  well  by  me.  But  he's 
been  at  his  line  a  quarter  of  a  century  and  he'll  end  where 
he  began  —  in  a  real  estate  office  over  in  Wykerton,  trying 
to  get  something  for  nothing  and  calling  it  business." 

"Horace  Carey?"  Jini  Shirley  called  next. 

"Here,"  Carey  replied. 

"  With  a  big  H,"  Todd  Stewart  declared.  "  Same  doctor 
of  the  old  school.  Why  don't  you  get  married  or  take  a 
trip  to  India,  Doctor?  Not  that  we  aren't  satisfied  all  over 
with  you  as  you  are,  though,  and  wouldn't  hear  to  your 
doing  either  one.  You  belong  to  all  of  us  now." 

"  I  may  have  a  call  to  a  bigger  practice  some  day,  a 
service  that  will  make  you  proud  of  your  former  honorable 
townsman.  At  present  I'm  satisfied,"  Carey  said,  with  a 
smile. 

Four  years  later  the  men  remembered  this  reply  and  the 
attractive  face  of  the  speaker,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and 
the  whole  magnetic  presence  of  the  man. 

"John  Jacobs?"  Shirley  called  next. 

"  The  merchant  prince  of  Careyville,"  Asher  Aydelot 
declared.  "The  money-loaning  Shylock.  Didn't  let  the 
boom  so  much  as  turn  one  hair  black  or  white.  Land 
owner  and  stock  raiser  of  the  Wolf  Creek  Valley  and 


220  Winning  the  Wilderness 

hater  of  saloons  seven  days  in  the  week.  Whatever  it  may 
mean  in  New  York  and  Cincinnati  and  Chicago,  being  a 
Jew  means  being  a  gentleman  in  this  corner  of  Kansas," 
Asher  was  running  on,  till  John  Jacobs  threw  a  chair 
cushion  at  his  head  and  Jim  called  out : 

"  Cyrus  Bennington." 

"Busted  by  the  boom.  Lived  at  the  public  crib  ever 
since.  Held  every  little  county  office  possible  to  get,  asking 
now  for  your  votes  this  fall  for  County  Treasurer.  Will 
end  his  days  seeking  an  election  and  go  at  last  to  be  with 
the  elected,"  Cyrus  Bennington  frankly  described  himself. 

"Not  so  bad  yet  as  Todd  Stewart,"  Todd  declared. 
"  He  lost  everything  in  the  boom  except  his  old  Scotch 
Presbyterian  faith.  Now  head  clerk  in  J.  Jacobs'  dry 
goods  and  general  merchandise  store.  Had  the  good  sense, 
though,  this  old  Todd  did,  to  send  his  son  back  to  the  land 
and  make  a  farmer  out  of  him,  and  the  second  generation 
of  Stewarts  in  this  valley  promises  to  make  it  yet.  Why 
don't  you  revert  to  the  soil,  too,  Bennington?" 

"Todd  is  doing  well  with  his  leases,"  Asher  Aydelot 
declared.  "  He'll  be  a  landowner  yet." 

"My  family,  especially  the  girls,  object  to  living  on  a 
farm,"  Cyrus  Bennington  said  gravely.  "They  have 
notions  of  city  life  I  can't  overcome.  Jo  especially  dislikes 
the  country  and  Jo  runs  things  round  the  Bennington 
place." 

"James  Shirley,  Esquire,"  Jim  announced  and  added 
quickly : 

"  The  biggest  sucker  in  the  booming  gang.  Lost  his 
farm  to  the  Champers  Company.  Holds  a  garden  patch 
and  homestead  only,  where  once  the  Cloverdale  Ranch 


The  Rollcall 


smiled.  All  under  mortgage  also  to  other  capitalists. 
Boys,  I'd  be  ready  to  give  up  if  it  wasn't  for  my  little 
girl.  What's  the  use  in  a  man  as  big  as  I  am,  with  no 
lung  power,  keeping  at  it?  "  There  was  a  sad  hopelessness 
in  Shirley's  tone. 

"  No,  no ! "  the  men  chorused  in  one  voice.  "  Go  on, 
Jim,  go  on ! " 

"Asher  Aydelot."  Jim  pretended  it  was  the  rollcall 
they  demanded. 

"Gentlemen,"  John  Jacobs  began  seriously.  But  at 
that  moment  Leigh  Shirley,  followed  by  Rosie  Gimpke, 
came  from  the  side  door  with  a  tray  of  glasses  and  a 
pitcher  of  lemonade. 

"Gentlemen,  a  toast  to  the  man  who  stuck  to  the  soil 
and  couldn't  be  blasted  to  financial  ruin  by  a  boom,  the 
wheat  king  of  these  prairies.  Our  host,  Asher  Aydelot." 

"The  clod-hopper,  Buckeye  farmer,"  Jim  added  affec 
tionately,  and  they  drank  to  Asher's  health. 

"Lord  bless  you,  Aydelot.  You  said  the  money  was  in 
the  soil,  not  on  top  of  it.  I  remember  you  looked  like  a 
prophet  when  you  said  it,"  Cyrus  Bennington  declared. 
"  But  I  was  wild  to  get  rich  quick  and  let  my  soil  go. 
I  never  look  at  Aydelot's  spreading  acres  of  wheat  increas 
ing  in  area  every  year  without  wondering  why  the  Lord 
let  me  be  such  a  fool." 

"Well,  you've  spent  a  lot  of  days  in  an  easy  chair  in 
the  shade  of  a  county  office  since  then  while  I  was  driving  a 
reaper  in  the  hot  sunshine,"  Asher  insisted. 

"  You  are  the  strongest  man  here  now,  for  all  your  farm 
work,  Aydelot,"  John  Jacobs  asserted.  "It  is  the  store 
that  really  breaks  a  man  down." 


222  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Not  in  his  nerve,  nor  in  pocketbook,"  Todd  Stewart 
added.  "Here's  a  toast,  now,  to  the  second  generation, 
and  especially  to  Thaine  Aydelot,  son  of  the  Sunflower 
Ranch.  Nineteen  years  old  tonight." 

"What  is  Thaine  going  to  follow,  Asher?"  someone 
inquired.  "I  suppose  you'll  be  making  a  gentleman  out 
of  him,  since  he's  your  only  child." 

"  My  father  tried  to  make  a  gentleman  out  of  me  and 
failed,  as  you  see,"  Asher  replied. 

"Tragic  failure,"  Jim  groaned. 

"  Seriously,  Aydelot,  what's  Thaine  to  do  ?  "  The  query 
came  from  Dr.  Carey ;  the  company  awaited  the  answer. 

"He  isn't  wanting  to  follow  anything  right  now.  He 
has  a  notion  that  the  earth  is  following  him,"  Asher  said 
with  a  smile.  "And  having  handled  Aydelots  all  my  life, 
I'm  letting  him  alone  a  little  with  the  hope  that  at  last 
he'll  come  back  to  the  soil  as  I  did.  He  goes  to  the  Kansas 
University  this  fall  and  he  has  all  sorts  of  notions,  even  a 
craving  for  military  glory.  I  can't  blame  him.  I  had  the 
same  disease  once.  I  don't  believe  in  any  wild  oats  business. 
I  hope  Thaine  will  be  a  gentleman,  but  I  don't  wonder 
that  a  green  country  boy  who  has  looked  out  all  his  life 
on  open  prairies  and  lonely  distances  should  have  a  longing 
for  city  pavements  and  the  busy  haunts  of  men.  How  well 
he  will  make  his  way  and  what  he  will  let  these  things  fit 
him  to  do  depends  somewhat  on  how  well  grounded  the 
farm  life  and  home  life  have  made  him.  The  old  French 
Aydelot  blood  had  something  of  the  wanderlust  in  it.  I 
hope  that  trait  may  not  reappear  in  Thaine.  But  where's 
Pryor  Gaines  in  this  rollcall?  We  are  getting  away  from 
the  subject  before  the  house." 


The  Eollcall 


Jim  Shirley's  handsome  face  grew  sorrowful. 

"He  was  not  affected  by  the  boom.  He  has  been  the 
same  man  in  spirit  and  fortune  for  twenty-five  years.  But 
we  are  going  to  lose  him.  That's  why  he's  not  here 
tonight,"  Jim  hurried  on  as  the  others  were  about  to  inter 
rupt  him.  "  He  won't  say  good-by  to  anybody.  You  can 
understand  why.  He's  going  to  start  for  China  tomorrow 
morning  —  missionary!  It's  the  last  of  Pryor  Gaines  for 
us.  I  promised  not  to  tell  till  he  was  gone.  I've  lied  to 
him.  That's  all.  But  you'll  not  tell  on  me  nor  let  him 
know.  He  says  he's  'called.'  And  when  a  preacher  gets 
that  in  his  blood  there's  no  stopping  him." 

At  that  moment  Virginia  Aydelot  and  a  group  of 
matrons  came  thronging  out. 

"  Come  in  for  the  Virginia  Reel,"  they  demanded.  "  The 
young  folks  are  having  refreshments  on  the  side  porch 
and  Bo  Peep  wants  us  to  dance  for  him." 

"  May  I  have  the  honor  ? "  Horace  Carey  said,  bowing 
to  Virginia  Aydelot. 

"With  pleasure,  Horace,"  Virginia  replied  with  a  smile. 

As  they  led  the  way  to  the  dining  room,  Dr.  Carey  said : 

"I  congratulate  you  tonight,  Virginia,  on  your  son, 
your  kingly  husband,  and  your  busy,  useful  life.  You've 
won  the  West,  you  two." 

"  Not  yet,"  Virginia  replied.  "  Not  until  our  son  proves 
himself.  He's  a  farmer's  boy  now.  Wait  five  years  till 
he  is  the  age  his  father  was  when  he  came  out  here.  The 
test  of  victory  is  the  second  generation." 

Bo  Peep's  fiddle  began  its  song  and  the  still  young 
middle-aged  guests  with  their  host  and  hostess  kept  time 
to  its  rhythm. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  SECOND  GENERATION 

The  younger  generation  does  not  want  instruction. 
It  is  perfectly  willing  to  instruct  if  anyone  will  listen 
to  it. 

—The  Education  of  Otis  Teere. 

THE  second  generation  gave  little  thought  to  what  was 
filling  the  minds  of  the  first  settlers  tonight.  The 
company  was  a  large  one  and  a  dozen  years  later  more 
than  one  young  matron  remembered  Thaine  Aydelot's 
birthday  party  as  the  beginning  of  a  romance  that  ended 
happily  for  her. 

"Jo,  you  are  the  queen  of  the  ball  tonight,"  Todd 
Stewart,  Junior,  declared,  as  he  led  her  to  the  cool  veranda 
after  their  fourth  dance  together. 

Jo  looked  the  part  in  the  moonlight,  as  in  the  lamplight. 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not.  Leigh  Shirley  is  Thaine's  favorite, 
and  his  choice  is  queen  tonight,"  Jo  said  coquettishly. 

"  Darn  him !  We  all  know  who  his  choice  is,  all  right," 
Todd  said.  "But,  Jo,  can't  a  fellow  have  half  a  chance, 
anyhow?  You  know,  you  can't  help  knowing  a  lot  of  us 
would  fight  for  you." 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  she  did  not  resist  at  once. 

"Oh,  Jo,  I  know  one  fellow,  anyhow  — " 

"Look  at  Thaine  now,"  Jo  interrupted  him,  as  Thaine 
came  near  the  open  window.  "  Todd,  do  you  know  why 
he  thinks  so  much  of  Leigh  Shirley  ?  " 

"  Of  Leigh?    Does  he?    I  hope  he  does.    He  shows  good 


The  Second  Generation  225 

taste,  anyhow.  Everybody  from  Little  Plum  Creek  clear  to 
Northfork  likes  Leigh." 

Jo's  eyes  flashed. 

"  She  must  be  very  popular." 

"Oh,  not  as  they  like  you,  Jo.  You  must  know  the 
difference  between  you  two,  a  real  beauty  and  a  sweet  little 
girlie." 

"  She's  not  so  sweet.  She  tries  to  attract  and  doesn't 
know  how,"  Jo  declared,  for  jealousy  belongs  to  the 
dominant. 

Todd  Stewart's  sense  of  justice  was  strong,  even  in  his 
infatuation. 

"Why,  Jo,  you  mustn't  be  jealous  of  Leigh.  She's  the 
girl  the  boys  can't  make  like  them.  She's  the  funniest, 
settest  little  creature.  And  yet,  she  is  a  cute  child.  But 
you  are  our  pride,  you  know,  and  to  me  —  well,  let  me 
take  you  home  tonight,  and  I'll  tell  you  about  my  pride." 

"  I  don't  care  for  your  pride,  if  you  all  admire  the  cute 
child."  Jo  withdrew  her  hand  from  his.  "Here  comes 
Thaine  now.  I  think  you'd  better  take  Leigh  home. 
Thaine  will  take  me,  I'm  sure.  But  I'll  go  to  refreshments 
with  you,"  she  added,  for  she  knew  how  to  play  on  more 
than  one  string. 

"Why,  Josephine,  my  queen,  my  queen,  where  are  you 
hiding?  I've  danced  an  extra,  waiting  for  you.  Todd 
Stewart,  I'll  have  to  kill  you  yet  tonight.  What  do  you 
mean  by  breaking  up  my  party  ?  " 

Thaine  caught  Jo's  arm  and  with  a  mock  thrust  at 
Todd  he  whirled  her  into  the  house. 

"Did  you  really  miss  me?"  Jo's  big  dark  eyes  were 
fastened  on  Thaine's  face. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"  More  than  tongue  can  tell.  Who  wouldn't  miss  you  ?  " 
Thaine's  eyes  were  shining  mischievously. 

"Leigh  Shirley  wouldn't,"  Jo  said  softly  and  half 
sadly. 

Something  impenetrable  dropped  before  Thaine's  face. 

"Let's  go  out  to  the  honeysuckle  arbor  and  not  dance 
now.  I'm  so  tired,"  Jo  murmured,  with  a  sweet  pleading 
in  her  voice. 

"I  fixed  it  just  for  you,"  Thaine  declared  as  he  led  the 
way  to  the  moonlit  lawn  and  shadowy  seat. 

"  You  are  so  good  to  me,  Thaine.  What  makes  you  do 
so  many  things  just  for  me?  I  know  you  don't  really 
care  for  me.  You  are  so  different  from  most  farmers' 
sons."  Jo's  head  drooped  a  little  and  she  put  one  hand  on 
his  arm. 

"I  can't  help  being  good  to  folks.  It's  just  the  angel 
in  me,"  Thaine  declared.  Then  he  added  seriously,  "  I 
wish  I  could  do  something  for  you,  Jo.  All  the  boys  are 
wild  about  you  tonight.  You  are  a  picture*" 

She  was  beautiful  at  the  moment,  and  as  she  lifted  her 
eyes  to  his  something  in  their  shining  depths  spoke  witch- 
ingly  to  the  youth  of  nineteen,  untrained  in  ways  of  femi 
nine  coquetry.  He  was  only  a  country  boy,  unskilled  in 
social  tactics,  but  a  combination  of  timidity  and  good 
breeding  shaped  his  ideals  and  his  action. 

"I  don't  care  for  all  the  boys,"  Jo  murmured. 

"Then  we  are  hopelessly  bankrupt,"  Thaine  declared. 
"Isn't  this  a  wonderful  night?" 

"  Yes,  and  father  and  mother  are  going  home  so  early," 
Jo  said. 

"  Well,  your  whole  wardrobe  is  over  here  ;  why  not  stay 


The  Second  Generation 


all  night?  You  can  help  Rosie  and  mother  and  me  tomor 
row.  There  are  plenty  of  Benningtons  left  at  your  home 
without  you,  and  mother  will  want  you,"  Thaine  urged. 

"Do  you  want  me  to?"  Jo  asked  softly. 

"Tremendously.  We'll  eat  all  the  ice  cream  that's  left 
when  the  crowd  goes  and  have  the  empty  mansion  all  to 
ourselves,"  Thaine  declared. 

"We  are  to  dance  the  last  dance  together  too,"  Jo 
reminded  him. 

"  Let's  run  in  now.  The  crowd  doesn't  miss  me,  but  I'm 
host,  you  know,  and  they're  gasping  for  you.  They'll  be 
scouring  the  premises  if  we  wait  longer." 

As  Thaine  lifted  Jo  to  her  feet  there  was  a  glitter  of 
tears  in  her  bright  eyes.  And  because  the  place  was 
shadowy  and  sweet  with  honeysuckle  perfume,  and  the 
moonlight  entrancing,  and  Jo  was  very  willing,  and  tears 
are  ever  appealing,  he  put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew 
her  close  to  him,  and  kissed  her  on  each  cheek. 

Jo's  face  was  triumphant  as  they  met  Leigh  Shirley  at 
the  dining  room  door. 

"What's  the  next  case  on  docket,  Leigh?"  Thaine 
asked?  dropping  Jo's  arm. 

Jealousy  has  sharp  eyes,  but  even  jealousy  coald  hardly 
have  found  fault  with  the  friendly  and  indifferent  look  on 
Thaine's  face. 

"  Why,  it's  my  first  with  you,  Leigh.  Who's  your  part 
ner,  Jo?"  Thaine  continued. 

Two  or  three  young  men  claimed  the  honor,  and  the 
music  began. 

"  Mrs.  Aydelot,  Thaine  has  asked  me  to  stay  all  night," 
Jo  said,  as  the  figures  were  forming. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"  It  will  please  us  all,"  Virginia  said  graciously,  and  Jo 
tripped  away. 

When  the  strains  of  music  for  the  last  dance  began  Jo 
looked  for  Thaine,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  She 
waited  impatiently  and  the  angry  glitter  in  her  eyes  was 
not  unbecoming  her  imperious  air. 

Bo  Peep  did  not  wait  long,  for  he  was  getting  tired. 
Half  a  dozen  young  men  rushed  toward  Jo  as  she  stood 
alone.  But  Todd  Stewart  let  no  opportunity  escape  him. 
And  the  dance  began.  A  minute  later  Thaine  came  in  with 
Leigh  Shirley.  Smiling  a  challenge  at  Todd,  he  caught 
Leigh's  hand  and  swung  into  the  crowd  on  the  floor. 

The  older  guests  were  already  gone.  The  music  trailed 
off  into  a  weird,  rippling  rhythm,  with  young  hearts  beat 
ing  time  to  its  melody  and  young  feet  keeping  step  to  its 
measure.  Then  the  tired,  happy  company  broke  into 
groups.  Good-bys  and  good  wishes  were  given  again  and 
again,  and  the  party  was  over. 

The  couples  took  their  way  up  or  down  the  old  Grass 
River  trail  or  out  across  the  prairie  by-roads,  with  the 
moon  sailing  serenely  down  the  west.  Everybody  voted 
it  the  finest  party  ever  given  on  Grass  River.  And  nobody 
at  all,  except  his  mother  and  Jo  Bennington,  noticed  that 
Thaine  had  not  left  Leigh  Shirley's  side  from  his  first 
dance  with  her  late  in  the  evening  until  the  time  of  the 
good-bys. 

As  the  guests  were  leaving  Thaine  turned  to  Jo, 
saying  : 

"  I'm  sorry  about  that  last  dance,  but  I'll  forgive  Todd 
this  last  time.  Rosie  cut  her  hand  on  a  glass  tumbler  she 
dropped  and  I  was  helping  Leigh  to  tie  it  up  when  old 


The  Second  Generation 


Bo  Peep  started  the  music.  Here's  the  girl  I'm  to  take 
home.  Got  your  draperies  on  already.  The  carriage  waits 
and  the  black  steed  paws  for  us  by  the  chicken  yard  gate. 
Goodnight,  gentle  beings."  And  taking  Leigh's  arm,  he 
led  her  away. 

"  Gimpke  is  as  awkward  as  a  cow,"  Jo  Bennington  de 
clared,  "and  too  stupid  to  know  what's  said  to  her." 

But  Rosie  Gimpke,  standing  in  the  shadows  of  the  dark 
ened  dining  room,  was  not  too  stupid  to  understand  what 
was  said  about  her.  And  into  her  stolid  brain  came  dreams 
that  night  of  a  fair  face  with  soft  golden  brown  hair  and 
kindly  eyes  of  deep,  tender  blue.  Stupid  as  she  was,  the 
woman's  instinct  in  her  told  her  in  her  dreams  that  the 
handsome  young  son  of  her  employer  might  not  always  look 
his  thoughts  nor  dance  earliest  and  oftenest  with  the  girl 
he  liked  best.  But  Rosie  was  dull  and  slept  heavily  and 
these  things  came  to  her  sluggish  brain  only  in  fleeting 
dreams. 

Thaine  and  Leigh  did  not  hurry  on  their  homeward 
way.  And  Jo  Bennington,  wide  awake  in  the  guest  room 
of  the  Aydelot  house,  noted  that  the  moon  was  far  toward 
the  west  when  Thaine  let  himself  in  at  the  side  door  and 
slipped  up  stairs  unheard  by  all  the  household  except 
herself. 

"Let's  go  down  by  the  lake,"  Thaine  suggested  as  he 
and  Leigh  came  to  the  edge  of  the  grove.  "It's  full  to 
the  bridge,  and  the  lilies  are  wide  open  now.  Are  you 
too  sleepy  to  look  at  them?  You  used  to  draw  them  with 
chalk  all  along  the  blackboard  in  the  old  schoolhouse  up 
there." 

"I'm  never  too  sleepy  to  look  at  water  lilies  in  the 


230  Winning  the  Wilderness 

moonlight,"  Leigh  replied,  "nor  too  tired  to  paint  them, 
either.  Lilies  are  a  part  of  my  creed.  'Consider  the 
lilies,  how  they  grow.' 5: 

"  With  their  long  rubbery  stems,  up  out  of  mud  mostly," 
Thaine  said  carelessly.  "  I  pretty  nearly  grew  fast  along 
with  them  down  there,  till  I  learned  how  to  gather  them 
a  better  way." 

The  woodland  shadows  were  thrust  through  with  shafts 
of  white  moonbeams,  giving  a  weird  setting  to  the  silent 
midnight  hour.  The  odor  of  woods'  blossoms  came  with 
the  moist,  fresh  breath  of  the  May  night.  There  was  a 
little  song  of  waters  gurgling  down  the  spillway  that  was 
once  only  a  dry  draw  choked  with  wild  plum  bushes.  The 
road  wound  picturesquely  through  the  grove  to  a  bridged 
driveway  that  separated  the  lakelet  into  two  parts.  A 
spread  of  silvery  light  lay  on  this  driveway  and  Thaine 
checked  his  horse  in  the  midst  of  it  while  the  two  looked 
at  the  waters. 

"  It's  all  just  silver  or  sable.  There's  no  middle  tone," 
Leigh  said,  looking  at  the  sparkling  moonbeams  reflected 
on  the  face  of  the  lake  and  the  darkness  of  the  shadowed 
surface  beyond  them. 

"Isn't  there  pink,  or  creamy,  or  something  softer  in 
those  lilies  right  by  the  bank?  I'm  no  artist,  but  that's 
how  it  looks  to  a  clod-hopper,"  Thaine  declared. 

"You  are  an  artist,  or  you  wouldn't  catch  that,  where 
most  anybody  would  see  only  steely  white  and  dead  black. 
It  Is  the  only  color  in  this  black  and  white  woodsy  place," 
Leigh  insisted,  looking  up  at  Thaine's  face  in  the  shadow 
and  down  at  her  own  white  dress. 

"There's  a  bit  of  color  in  your  cheeks,"  Thaine  said, 


The  Second  Generation  231 

as  he  studied  the  girl's  fair  countenance,  all  pink  and  white 
in  the  moonlight. 

"  Oh,  not  the  pretty  blooming  roses  like  Jo  Bennington 
has,"  Leigh  said,  smiling  frankly  and  folding  her  hands 
contentedly  in  her  lap. 

Thaine  recalled  the  seat  under  the  honeysuckle,  and  Jo 
Bennington's  pleading  eyes,  and  bewitching  beauty,  and 
the  touch  of  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  her  willingness  to 
be  kissed.  He  was  flattered  by  it  all,  for  Jo  was  the  belle 
of  the  valley,  and  Thaine  thought  himself  in  love  with  her. 
He  knew  that  the  other  boys,  especially  Todd  Stewart,  Jr., 
envied  him.  And  yet  in  this  quiet  hour  in  the  silent  grove, 
with  the  waters  shimmering  below  them,  the  gentle  dignity 
of  the  sweet- faced  girl  beside  him,  with  her  purity  and 
simplicity  wrapping  her  about,  as  the  morning  mists 
wrapped  the  far  purple  notches  on  the  southwest  horizon, 
gave  to  her  presence  there  an  influence  he  could  not 
understand. 

Thaine  had  never  kissed  any  girl  except  Jo,  had  never 
cared  enough  for  any  other  girl  to  think  about  it.  But 
tonight  there  suddenly  swept  through  his  mind  the  thought 
of  the  joy  that  was  waiting  for  some  man  to  whom  Leigh 
would  give  that  privilege,  and  without  any  self-analysis 
(boys  at  nineteen  analyze  little)  he  began  to  hate  the  man 
who  should  come  sometime  to  claim  the  privilege. 

"Leigh,  don't  you  ever  feel  jealous  of  Jo?"  He  didn't 
know  why  he  asked  the  question. 

Leigh  gave  a  little  laugh. 

"Ought  I?"  she  inquired,  looking  up.  "She  hasn't 
anything  I  want." 

The  deep  violet  eyes  under  the  long  lashes  were  beau- 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


tiful  without  the  flashing  and  sparkle  of  Jo  Bennington's 
coquettish  gaze. 

"  That  was  an  idiotic  thing  to  ask,"  Thaine  admitted. 
"  Why  should  you,  sure  enough  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  had  some  of  those  lilies."  Leigh  changed  the 
subject  abruptly. 

"Hold  the  horse,  then,  and  I'll  get  them.  I  keep  a 
hooked  knife  on  a  long  stick  hidden  down  here  on  purpose 
to  cut  them  for  me  mummy,  on  occasion." 

Thaine  jumped  out  of  the  buggy  and  ran  down  to  the 
end  of  the  driveway  where  the  creamy  lilies  lay  on  the  dark 
waters  near  the  bank. 

"Be  careful  of  your  dress,"  he  said,  as  he  came  back 
and  handed  a  bunch  of  blossoms  with  their  trailing  wet 
stems  up  to  Leigh.  "Do  you  remember  your  Prince 
Quippi  off  in  China,  and  your  love  letters,  with  old  Grass 
River  for  postal  service?  Will  you  send  me  a  letter  down 
the  old  Kaw  River  when  I  go  to  the  Kansas  University 
this  fall?" 

"A  sunflower  letter  like  I  used  to  send  to  Quippi?" 
Leigh  asked. 

"Any  kind  of  a  letter.  I'll  miss  you  more  than  any 
thing  here,  except  my  beloved  chores  about  the  farm," 
Thaine  responded. 

"  Jo  will  write  all  the  letters  you'll  have  time  to  answer," 
Leigh  asserted. 

"Oh,  she  says  she's  going  to  Lawrence  too,  if  her 
pa-paw  is  elected  County  Treasurer.  We'll  be  in  the 
University  together.  You'll  just  have  to  write  to  me, 
Leighlie." 

"Not  unless  you  go  to  China.     I'll  send  you  a  letter 


The  Second  Generation  233 

there  like  I  used  to  send  to  Prince  Quippi."  There  was  a 
sudden  pathos  in  her  tone. 

"  Will  you?  Oh,  Leigh,  will  you?  "  Thaine  asked,  gaily, 
looking  down  into  her  face,  white  and  dainty  in  the  soft 
light.  "  Quippi  never  answered  one  of  them,  but  I  would 
if  I  was  over  there,  and  I  may  go  yet.  There's  no  telling." 

Leigh  looked  up  with  her  eyes  full  of  pain. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  mean  to  tease  you,"  Thaine  declared. 

"Thaine,  Pryor  Gaines  is  to  start  to  China  tomorrow. 
He's  been  planning  it  for  weeks  and  weeks.  He's  going 
to  be  a  missionary  and  he'll  never  come  back  again  —  and 
—  and  there  is  so  much  for  me  to  do  when  he  is  gone.  He 
has  been  such  a  kind  helper  all  these  years.  His  refined 
taste  has  meant  so  much  to  me  in  the  study  of  painting, 
and  I  need  him  now." 

Thaine  gave  a  low  whistle  of  surprise.  Leigh's  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,  but  Thaine  would  not  have  dared  to 
take  her  in  his  arms,  as  he  had  taken  Jo  Bennington. 

"Little  neighbor,  we've  been  playmates  nearly  all  our 
lives.  Can't  I  help  you  in  some  way?"  he  asked  gently. 

"Yes,  you  can,"  Leigh  replied  in  a  low  voice.  "There 
are  some  things  I  must  do  for  Uncle  Jim  and  when  you 
are  doing  for  people  you  can't  tell  them  nor  depend  on 
their  advice.  When  Pryor  is  gone,  may  I  ask  you  some 
times  what  to  do?  I  won't  bother  you  often." 

Asher  Aydelot  had  declared  that  Alice  Leigh  was  the 
prettiest  girl  in  Ohio  in  her  day. 

The  pink-tinted  creamy  lilies  looking  up  from  the  still 
surface  of  the  lakelet  were  not  so  fair  as  the  pink-tinted 
face  of  Alice  Leigh's  daughter,  framed  in  the  soft  brown 
shadows  of  her  hair  with  a  hint  of  gold  in  the  ripples  at 


234*  Winning  the  Wilderness 

the  white  temples.  And  behind  the  face,  looking  out 
through  long-lashed  violet  eyes,  was  loving  sacrifice  and 
utter  self-forgetfulness. 

Thaine  was  nineteen  and  wise  to  give  advice.  A  sudden 
thrill  caught  his  pulse,  mid-beat. 

"Is  that  all?    Can't  I  do  something?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  That's  a  great  deal.  And  nobody  can  do  for  anybody. 
We  have  to  do  for  ourselves." 

"You  are  not  doing  anything  for  Uncle  Jim,  then,  I 
am  to  understand,"  Thaine  said. 

But  Leigh  ignored  his  thrust,  saying: 

"When  Pryor  leaves,  he  doesn't  want  to  say  good-by 
to  anybody,  not  even  to  Uncle  Jim.  He  says  China  is 
only  a  little  way  off,  just  behind  the  purple  notches  over 
there.  I'm  going  to  take  him  to  the  train  tomorrow  and 
then  I'm  going  on  to  Wykerton  on  business.  After  that,  I 
may  need  lots  of  advice." 

"Wykerton's  a  joint-ridden  place,  but  John  Jacobs  has 
put  a  good  class  of  farmers  around  it.  He's  such  an  old 
saloon  hater,  Hans  Wyker'd  like  to  kill  him.  But  say, 
why  not  tell  me  now  what  you  are  about,  so  I  can  be  look 
ing  up  references  and  former  judicial  decisions  handed 
down  in  similar  cases?"  Thaine  asked  lightly. 

"Because  it's  too  long  a  story,  and  I  must  get  Pryor 
to  the  eight  o'clock  limited,"  Leigh  said. 

The  crowing  of  chickens  in  a  far  away  farmyard  came 
faintly  at  that  moment,  and  Thaine  with  a  strange  new 
sense  of  the  importance  of  living,  sent  the  black  horses 
cantering  down  the  trail  to  the  old  Cloverdale  Ranch  house. 

Jo  Bennington  slept  late.  She  had  been  up  late.  She 
had  danced  often  and  she  had  waited  for  Thaine's  home- 


The  Second  Generation  235 

coming.  Yet,  when  she  came  downstairs  in  a  white  morn 
ing  dress  all  sprinkled  with  little  pink  sprays,  there  was 
hardly  a  hint  of  weariness  in  her  young  face  or  in  her  quick 
footsteps. 

"I'm  glad  you  stayed,  Jo,"  Mrs.  Aydelot  greeted  her. 
"  This  is  '  the  morning  after  the  night  before,'  and,  as 
usual,  the  desertions  equal  the  wounded  and  imprisoned. 
Asher  and  the  men  had  to  go  across  the  river  early  to  look 
after  the  fences  and  washouts  on  the  lower  quarter.  And 
Rosie  Gimpke  decided  to  go  home  this  morning  as  soon 
as  breakfast  was  done.  So  it  is  left  for  us  to  get  the  house 
over  the  party.  Not  so  easy  as  getting  ready  for  it, 
especially  without  help." 

"Where's  Thaine?"  Jo  asked  carelessly,  though  her 
face  was  a  tattler. 

"He  took  some  colts  over  to  John  Jacobs'  ranch.  He 
had  Rosie  ride  one  and  he  rode  another  and  led  two.  They 
were  a  sight.  I  hoped  you  might  see  them  go  by  your 
window.  Thaine  had  his  hat  stuck  on  like  a  Dutchman's 
and  he  puffed  himself  out  and  made  up  a  regular  Wyker 
face  as  he  jogged  along.  And  Rosie  plumped  herself 
down  on  that  capering  colt  as  though  she  shifted  all  re 
sponsibility  for  accidents  upon  it.  The  more  it  pranced 
about,  the  firmer  she  sat  and  the  less  concerned  she  was. 
I  heard  Thaine  calling  out,  ' Breakers  ahead!'  as  he 
watched  her  bring  it  back  into  the  road  in  front  of  him 
with  a  sort  of  side  kick  of  her  foot." 

"What  made  Gimpke  leave?"  Jo  asked,  to  cover  her 
disappointment. 

"She  cut  her  hand  badly  last  night.  She  insisted  at 
first  that  she  would  help  me  today  and  go  home  later  to  stay 


236  Winning  the  Wilderness 

till  it  gets  well.  Then  she  suddenly  changed  her  mind. 
Possibly  it  was  the  spare-room  bed,"  Virginia  said  laugh 
ing.  "When  I  told  her  not  to  wake  you  when  she  made 
up  the  other  beds,  she  suddenly  got  homesick,  her  hand 
grew  worse  and  she  flew  the  premises.  I'll  run  up  and 
attend  to  that  bed  while  you  finish  your  breakfast,"  and 
Virginia  left  the  room. 

At  that  moment  young  Todd  Stewart  appeared  on  the 
side  porch  before  the  dining  room  door. 

"Thaine  stopped  long  enough  to  ask  me  to  come  over 
and  move  furniture  for  his  mother,"  Todd  sang  out.  "  He 
doesn't  think  you  were  made  to  lift  cupboards  and  carry 
chairs  downstairs." 

"  Oh,  it's  his  mother  he's  thinking  about,"  Jo  said  with 
pretty  petulance.  In  truth,  she  was  angry  with  Thaine 
for  taking  Leigh  home  last  night  and  for  leaving  home 
today. 

"  No,  it's  his  mother  he's  ceased  to  love,"  Todd  said, 
coming  inside.  "He  said  he'd  quit  the  old  home  and  was 
moving  his  goods  up  to  Wolf  Creek  for  keeps.  And  with 
that  fat  tow-headed  Gimpke  girl  sitting  on  the  frisky  bay 
colt  as  unconcerned  as  a  bump  on  a  log,  it  was  the  fun 
niest  sight  I  ever  saw." 

Jo  tossed  her  head  contemptuously. 

"  Say,  Curly  Locks,  Curly  Locks,  you  ought  to  always 
sit  on  a  cushion  and  sew  a  fine  seam  and  wear  a  dress  to 
breakfast  with  those  little  pink  du-dads  scattered  over  it." 

"Not  if  I  was  a  farmer's  wife,"  Jo  responded  quickly. 

"  Oh,  Jo,  do  3^ou  really  want  to  be  a  city  girl?  "  Todd's 
face  was  frankly  sorrowful.  "  Could  you  never  be  satisfied 
on  a  farm?" 


The  Second  Generation  237 

"  I  don't  believe  I  ever  could,"  Jo  said  prettily. 

"Thaine's  a  farmer  all  right,  Jo." 

"  He  isn't  going  to  be  one  always,"  Jo  broke  in  quickly. 
"He's  going  to  the  Kansas  University  and  there's  no 
telling  after  that." 

"  No,  he's  just  going  to  Wykerton,  that's  all.  Nay,  he 
have  went.  Him  and  him  fraulein.  And  say,  there's 
another  pretty  fraulein  went  up  the  trail  just  ahead  of  the 
Aydelot  horse  party.  A  sweetheart  of  a  girl  whom  Thaine 
Aydelot  took  home  after  all  last  night." 

"  I  don't  care  where  Thaine  goes,"  Jo  cried. 

"And  you  don't  care  for  a  farmer  anyhow,"  Todd  said 
suavely. 

"  Oh,  that  depends  on  how  helpful  he  is,"  Jo  responded 
tactfully. 

Todd  sprang  up  and  began  to  fling  the  chairs  about  with 
extravagant  energy  in  his  pretense  of  being  useful. 

"  Let's  help  Mrs.  Aydelot  as  swift  as  possible.  It's  hot 
as  the  dickens  this  morning,  and  the  prognostics  are  for  a 
cyclone  before  twelve  hours.  It's  nearly  eleven  of  'em  now. 
I'll  take  you  home  when  we  are  through.  Thaine  isn't  the 
whole  of  Grass  River  and  the  adjacent  creeks  and  tribu 
taries  and  all  that  in  them  is." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  COBURN  BOOK 

And  I  see,  from  my  higher  level, 

It  is  not  the  path  but  the  pace 
That  wearies  the  back,  and  dims  the  eye, 

And  writes  the  lines  on  the  face. 

—MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 

TV  /T  EANWHILE  the  May  sunshine  beat  hot  upon  the 
IV  _L  green  prairie,  and  the  promised  storm  gathered  itself 
together  behind  the  horizon  where  the  three  headlands  were 
lost  in  an  ash-colored  blur.  Wykerton,  shut  in  by  the 
broken  country  about  Big  Wolf  Creek,  was  more  uncom 
fortable  than  the  open  prairie.  And  especially  was  it 
uncomfortable  in  the  "blind  tiger"  of  the  Wyker  eating- 
house. 

Today  the  men  of  the  old  firm  of  Champers  &  Co.  were 
again  holding  a  meeting  in  this  little  room  that  could  have 
told  of  much  lawless  plotting  if  walls  could  only  tell. 

"It's  danged  hot  in  here,  Wyker.  Open  that  window," 
Darley  Champers  complained.  "  What  kept  you  fellows  so 
long,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  Business  kep'  me,  and  Smith  here,  he  stop  to  peek  at 
a  pretty  girl  for  goot  as  ten  minute,"  Hans  Wyker  said 
jocosely. 

Champers  stared  at  Thomas  Smith,  whose  small  eyes 
gleamed  back  at  him. 

"  Oh,  I  just  turned  to  look  at  Miss  Shirley  in  the  dining 
room.  Can't  a  man  look  at  a  pretty  girl  if  he  is  past 
forty-five?  She  didn't  see  me,  though." 

238 


The  Coburn  Book  239 

"  Naw,  she  see  nopotty  but  young  Aytelot  sitting  mit 
her.  Why  you  take  oop  precious  time  peekin'  trough  der 
crack  in  der  kitchen  door?  I  be  back  in  a  minute  vonce. 
Smitt  haf  business  mit  you,"  Wyker  declared  as  he  turned 
to  the  kitchen  again. 

Left  together,  the  two  men  sat  silent  a  moment.  Then 
Champers  said  with  a  frown: 

"What  do  you  want  now?  We've  got  no  business  with 
each  other  except  as  I  am  agent  for  your  rents  and 
mortgages." 

"You  seem  to  fatten  on  them,  or  something,"  Smith 
answered  insinuatingly.  "  You  lose  no  flesh  with  the  years, 
I  see." 

"  I've  little  occasion  to  worry,"  Darley  Champers  replied 
meaningly. 

"  Not  with  a  fat  income  like  yours  and  small  returns  to 
your  employer  who's  kept  you  all  these  years,"  Smith 
began,  but  Darley  Champers  mentally  blew  up.  It  was  in 
the  bluffer's  game  that  he  always  succeeded  best. 

"Now,  see  here,  dang  you.  Get  to  business.  You  and 
Wyker  and  me  dissolved  partnership  long  ago.  I've  been 
your  agent  years  and  years.  I've  did  my  best.  I  never 
got  so  rich  you  could  notice  it  on  my  breath.  I'm  not  a 
thief  nor  a  murderer.  I  keep  inside  the  law.  I  broke  with 
you  fellows  years  ago,  except  straight  contract  that'll 
probate  in  any  court.  You  are  a  bully  in  power  and  a 
coward  out  of  it.  What  the  devil  do  you  want  with  me? 
I'm  no  bank.  Be  clear  and  quick  about  it  and  quit  your 
infernal  dodgin'  human  beins  like  a  cut-throat.  I've 
signed  your  name  to  no  end  of  papers  for  you  when  you 
wouldn't  put  your  own  left-handed  writin'  in  sight.  I  have 


240  Winning  the  Wilderness 

your  written  permit  safe  for  doin'  it.  I  reckon  somebody 
must  a'  put  that  right  hand  of  yours  out  of  commission 
sometime.  I'll  find  out  about  it  one  of  these  days  myself." 

Thomas  Smith  sat  looking  at  the  speaker  with  steady 
gaze.  Many  lines  crossed  his  countenance  now,  but  the 
crooked  scar  had  not  faded  with  time.  In  a  coffin  his  would 
be  the  face  of  an  old  man.  Alive,  it  was  so  colorless  and 
uninteresting  in  expression  that  not  one  person  in  a  hun 
dred  would  turn  to  take  a  second  look  at  him  nor  dream  of 
the  orgies  of  dissipation  his  years  could  recount.  Withal, 
he  had  the  shabby,  run-down  appearance  as  of  a  man  in 
hard  lines  financially. 

"  I  want  money  and  I  want  it  quick,  or  I'd  not  come  clear 
out  here.  And  you  are  going  to  get  it  for  me.  That 
Cloverdale  quarter  I've  held  grown  to  weeds  so  long  you 
will  sell  to  the  first  buyer  now.  Jim  Shirley's  at  the  last 
of  his  string.  I  did  what  I  wanted  to  do  with  him.  He'll 
never  own  a  quarter  again,"  Smith  spoke  composedly. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  you're  right.  You've  done  him  to  his  ruin. 
Jacobs  has  a  mortgage  on  his  home,  too,  and  a  Jew's  a 
Jew.  He'll  close  on  Jim  with  a  snap  yet.  It  won't  be 
the  first  time  he's  done  it,"  Darley  Champers  declared. 

"And  that  niece,  Tank's  girl,  he  was  to  protect  for 
Alice  Leigh?"  Smith  asked. 

"  Oh,  eventually  she'll  either  marry  some  hired  man,  I 
reckon,  or  go  to  sewin'  or  something  like  it  for  a  livin'. 
She's  a  danged  pretty  girl  now,  but  girls  fade  quick," 
Champers  said. 

For  just  one  instant  something  like  remorse  swept 
Smith's  face.  Then  he  hardened  again  as  the  ruling  pas 
sion  asserted  itself. 


The  Coburn  Book 


"  Serves  her  right,"  he  said  in  a  tone  so  brutal  that 
Champers  remembered  it. 

"  But  I  tell  you  I  must  have  money.  Two  hundred  dol 
lars  tonight  and  fourteen  hundred  inside  of  two  weeks. 
And  you'll  get  it  for  me.  You  understand  that.  And 
listen,  now."  Smith's  voice  slowly  uncoiled  itself  to 
Champers'  senses  as  a  snake  moves  leisurely  towrard  a  bird  it 
means  to  draw  to  itself.  "You  say  you  have  signed  my 
name  for  me  and  transacted  business,  handling  my  money. 
If  you  care  to  air  the  thing  in  court,  I'm  ready  for  you 
any  time.  But  do  you  dare?  Well,  bring  me  two  hundred 
dollars  before  tomorrow  and  the  other  fourteen  hundred 
inside  of  two  weeks.  And  after  this  look  out  for  yourself." 

The  threat  in  the  last  words  was  indescribable,  and 
Champers  would  have  shuddered  could  he  have  seen  Smith's 
countenance  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  So  he  taunts  me  with  being  a  coward  and  a  brute,  a 
thief  and  a  cut-throat;  dares  to  strike  me  in  the  face  when 
I've  given  him  a  living  so  long  he's  forgotten  who  did  it. 
I'm  done  with  him.  But  he  don't  dare  to  say  a  word." 

He  shut  his  lips  tightly  and  slowly  clinched  his  hands. 

"  For  wy  you  stare  so  at  dat  door  yet  ?  Where's  Cham 
pers  ?  "  Hans  Wyker  demanded  as  he  came  in. 

"The  game's  between  us  two  now,"  Thomas  Smith  de 
clared,  turning  to  Hans  Wyker. 

And  a  grim  game  was  plotted  then  and  there.  Hans, 
who  had  been  a  perpetual  law-breaker  since  the  loss  of  his 
brewery  business,  had  let  his  hatred  of  John  Jacobs  grow 
to  a  virulent  poison  in  his  system.  While  Thomas  Smith, 
whose  character  Darley  Champers  had  read  truly,  followed 
so  many  wrong  paths  down  the  years  that  conscience  and 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


manhood  were  strangers  to  him.  From  being  a  financier 
he  had  dropped  to  the  employment  of  a  brewers'  associa 
tion.  His  commission  was  to  tempt  young  men  and  boys  to 
drink  ;  to  create  appetites  that  should  build  up  the  brewing 
business  for  the  future.  In  the  game  now,  Smith  was  to 
deliver  beer  and  whisky  into  Wyker's  hands.  Wyker  would 
do  the  rest.  Whoever  opposed  him  must  suffer  for  his 
rashness. 

It  was  cooler  in  the  large  dining-room  where  Thaine 
Aydelot  and  Leigh  Shirley  had  met  by  chance  at  noontime. 
Leigh's  face  wore  a  deeper  bloom  and  her  eyes  were  shining 
with  the  exciting  events  of  the  day:  the  going  of  Pryor 
Gaines  and  the  business  that  had  brought  her  to  Wykerton. 
Something  like  pain  stabbed  suddenly  into  Thaine  Ayde- 
lot's  mind  as  he  caught  sight  of  her,  a  surprise  to  find  how 
daintily  attractive  she  was  in  her  cool  summer  gown  of 
pale  blue  gingham  and  her  becoming  hat  with  its  broad 
brim  above  her  brown-gold  hair. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  find  you  here,"  Leigh  said  as  Thaine 
took  the  chair  opposite  her  at  the  little  table. 

"I  came  over  to  Little  Wolf  with  Rosie  Gimpke  and 
some  other  colts.  Then  I  walked  over  here  to  catch  a  ride 
to  Careyville,  if  I  could,"  Thaine  said  carelessly. 

"You  can  ride  with  me  if  you  want  to.  I'll  be  going 
soon  after  dinner,"  Leigh  suggested. 

"Oh,  I'll  want  to  all  right.  It  may  be  well  to  start 
early.  It's  so  hot  I  expect  there'll  be  a  storm  before 
night,"  Thaine  suggested,  wondering  the  while  what 
Leigh's  business  in  Wykerton  might  be. 

Darley  Champers  was  in  a  fever  when  he  came  from  his 
conference  with  Thomas  Smith.  Smith  had  played  large 


The  Coburn  Book 


sums  into  his  hands  in  the  first  years  of  their  partnership. 
Of  late  the  sums  had  all  gone  the  other  way.  But  Cham 
pers  was  entangled  enough  to  know  that  he  must  raise  the 
money  required,  and  the  land  was  the  only  asset.  Few 
things  are  more  difficult  to  accomplish  than  to  find  a  buyer 
for  what  must  be  sold. 

At  the  office  Leigh  was  waiting  for  him.  "  Mr.  Cham 
pers,  I  am  Leigh  Shirley  from  the  Cloverdale  place  on 
Grass  River,"  she  said,  looking  earnestly  up  at  him. 

Darley  Champers  was  no  ladies'  man,  but  so  far  as  in 
his  coarse-grained  nature  lay,  he  was  never  knowingly  rude 
to  a  woman,  and  Leigh's  manner  and  presence  made  the 
atmosphere  of  his  office  comfortingly  different  from  the 
place  he  had  just  quitted.  The  white  lilac  bush  in  the 
yard  behind  the  office  whose  blossoms  sent  a  faint  odor 
through  the  rear  door,  seemed  to  double  its  fragrance. 

"Sit  down,  madam.  I'm  pleased  to  meet  you.  Can  I 
be  of  any  service  to  you  today?"  he  said  with  bluff 
cordiality. 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  want  to  buy  the  quarter  section  lying  south 
east  of  us.  It  was  the  old  Cloverdale  Ranch  once.  It 
belongs  to  Champers  &  Co.  now,  the  records  show,  and  I 
want  to  get  it.  It  was  my  Uncle  Jim  Shirley's  first  claim." 

Darley  Champers  stared  at  the  girl  and  said  nothing. 

"What  do  you  ask  for  it?"  Leigh  inquired. 

Still  the  real  estate  dealer  was  silent. 

"Isn't  it  for  sale?  It  is  all  weed-grown  and  hasn't  been 
cultivated  for  years." 

The  tremor  in  the  girl's  voice  reached  the  best  spot  in 
Darley  Champers'  trade-hardened  heart. 

"Lord,  yes,  it's  for  sale!"  he  broke  out. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


A  sense  of  relief  at  this  sudden  opportunity,  combined 
with  the  intense  satisfaction  of  getting  even  with  Thomas 
Smith,  overwhelmed  him.  Smith  would  rave  at  the  sale  to 
a  Shirley,  yet  this  sale  had  been  demanded.  Champers  had 
written  Smith's  name  into  too  many  documents  to  need  the 
owner's  handwriting  in  this  transaction.  Smith  would  leave 
town  in  the  evening.  The  whole  thing  was  easy  enough. 
While  Leigh  waited,  the  real  humaneness  of  which  Cham 
pers  so  often  boasted  found  its  voice  within  him. 

"I'll  sell  it  for  sixteen  hundred  dollars  if  I  can  get  two 
hundred  down  today  and  the  rest  in  cash  inside  of  two 
weeks.  But  I  must  close  the  bargain  today,  you  under 
stand." 

He  had  fully  meant  to  make  it  seventeen  hundred  fifty 
dollars.  It  was  the  unknown  humane  thing  in  him  that 
cut  off  his  own  commission. 

"It's  worth  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Won't  Thomas 
Smith,  who's  got  no  name  to  sign  to  a  piece  of  paper, 
won't  he  just  cuss  when  it's  all  did!  It's  worth  my  little 
loss  just  to  get  something  dead  on  him.  The  tricky 
thief!" 

"I'll  take  it,"  Leigh  said,  a  strange  light  glowing  in 
her  eyes  and  a  firm  line  settling  about  her  red  lips. 

Champers  couldn't  realize  an  hour  later  how  it  was  all 
done,  nor  why  with  such  a  poor  bargain  for  himself  he 
should  feel  such  satisfaction  as  he  saw  Leigh  Shirley  and 
Thaine  Aydelot  driving  down  the  road  toward  Little  Wolf 
together*  Neither  could  he  understand  why  the  perfume  of 
white  lilac  blossoms  from  the  bush  in  the  back  yard  of  his 
office  should  seem  so  sweet  this  morning.  He  was  not  a 
flower  lover.  But  he  felt  the  two  hundred  dollars  of  good 


The  Coburn  Book  245 

money  in  his  pocket  and  chuckled  as  he  forecasted  the 
hour  of  Thomas  Smith's  discovery. 

"This  is  a  shadier  road  than  the  one  I  came  over  this 
morning,"  Leigh  said  as  she  and  Thaine  followed  the  old 
trail  toward  Little  Wolf  Creek. 

"It's  a  little  nearer,  too,  and  you'll  see  by  casting  a 
glimpse  westward  that  things  are  doing  over  Grass  River 
way,"  Thaine  replied. 

Leigh  saw  that  a  sullen  black  cloud  bank  was  heaving 
above  the  western  horizon  and  felt  the  heated  air  of  the 
May  afternoon. 

"I  don't  like  storms  when  I'm  away  from  home,"  she 
said. 

"Are  you  afraid,  like  Jo  Bennington?  She  has  the 
terrors  over  them.  We  were  out  once  when  she  nearly 
bankrupted  everything,  she  was  so  scared." 

Thaine  recalled  a  stormy  night  when  Jo  had  clung  to 
his  arm  to  the  danger  of  both  of  them  and  the  frightened 
horse  he  could  hardly  control. 

"No,  I'm  not  afraid.  I  just  don't  like  being  blown 
about.  I  am  glad  I  happened  to  find  you,  to  be  blown 
about,  too,  if  it's  necessary,"  Leigh  replied. 

"'Happened'  is  a  good  word,  Leigh.  You  happened 
on  what  I  managed  you  should,  else  that  long  circus  per 
formance  with  Mademoiselle  Rosella  Gimpkello,  famous 
bareback  rider,  had  not  been  put  on  the  sawdust  this  hot 
day." 

"What  are  you  saying,  Thaine  Aydelot?"  Leigh  asked. 

"You  said  last  night  you  were  coming  over  here  today 
and  that  after  you  had  come  you  might  need  my  advice. 
Me  for  the  place  where  my  advice  is  needed  ever,  on  land 


246  Winning  the  Wilderness 

or  water.  Rosie's  hand  isn't  fit  to  use  yet.  I  knew  that 
was  a  nasty  glass  cut,  so  I  met  her  in  the  hall  upstairs  early 
this  morning  and  persuaded  her  to  come  over  today.  It 
gave  me  the  excuse  I  wanted  —  to  get  here  by  mere  hap 
pening." 

"And  leave  Mrs.  Aydelot  all  the  cleaning  up  to  do. 
Humane  son ! "  Leigh  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  Jo  stayed  all  night,  and  I  stopped  at  Todd  Stew 
art's  place  and  persuaded  him  down  to  help  mother  and 
Jo.  It  wasn't  hard  work  to  get  him  persuaded,  either." 

"Aren't  you  jealous  of  Todd?"  Leigh  asked,  with  a 
"demure  curve  of  her  lip. 

"Ought  I  be?  He  hasn't  anything  I  want,"  Thaine 
retorted. 

"  No,  he's  a  farmer.     Some  folks  don't  like  farmers." 

"I  don't  blame  them,"  Thaine  said  thoughtlessly.  "I 
haven't  much  use  for  a  farm  myself.  But  Leigh,  am  I  an 
unnecessary  evil?  I  really  turned  'Rory  Rumpus'  and 
*rode  a  raw-boned  racer'  clear  over  here  just  to  be  ready 
to  help  you.  I  wish  now  I'd  stayed  home  and  dried  the 
knives  and  forks  and  spoons  for  my  mammie." 

"  Oh,  Thaine,  you  are  as  good  as  —  as  alfalfa  hay,  and 
I  need  you  more  today  than  I  ever  did  in  my  life  before." 

"And  I  want  to  help  you  more  than  anything.  Don't 
be  a  still  cat,  Leighlie.  Tell  me  what  you  are  up  to." 

They  had  reached  the  steep  hill  beyond  the  Jacobs  sheep 
range  where  the  narrow  road  with  what  John  Jacobs  called 
"the  scary  little  twist"  wound  down  between  high  banks 
to  a  shadowy  hollow  leading  out  to  the  open  trail  by  the 
willows  along  Big  Wolf.  At  the  break  in  the  bank,  open 
ing  a  rough  way  down  to  the  deep  waters  of  Little  Wolf,  a 


The  Coburn  Book  247 

draught  of  cool  air  swept  up  refreshingly  against  their 
faces.  Thaine  flattened  the  buggy  top  under  the  shade 
of  overhanging  trees  and  held  the  horse  to  the  spot  to 
enjoy  the  delightful  coolness.  They  had  no  such  eerie 
picture  to  prejudice  them  against  the  place  as  the  picture 
that  haunted  John  Jacobs'  mind  here. 

"I've  bought  a  ranch,  Thaine;  the  quarter  section  that 
Uncle  Jim  entered  in  1870,"  Leigh  said  calmly. 

"  Alice  Leigh  Shirley,  are  you  crazy  ?  "  Thaine  exclaimed. 

"No,  I'm  safe  and  sane.  But  that's  why  I  need  your 
advice,"  Leigh  answered. 

Something  in  the  girl's  appealing  voice  and  perfect  con 
fidence  of  friendship,  so  unlike  Jo  Bennington's  pouting 
demands  and  pretty  coquetry,  came  as  a  revelation  and  a 
sense  of  loss  to  Thaine.  For  he  loved  Jo.  He  was  sure  of 
that,  cock-sure. 

"It's  this  way,"  Leigh  went  on,  "you  know  how  Uncle 
Jim  lost  everything  in  the  boom  except  his  honor.  He's 
helped  everybody  who  needed  help,  and  everybody  likes 
him,  I  guess." 

"  I  never  knew  anybody  who  didn't,"  Thaine  agreed. 

"  So  many  things,  I  needn't  name  them  all,  bad  crops, 
bad  faith  on  the  part  of  others,  bad  luck  and  bad  judg 
ment  and  bad  health,  for  all  his  size,  have  helped  till  he 
is  ready  to  go  hopeless,  and  Uncle  Jim's  only  fifty-one. 
It's  no  time  to  quit  till  you're  eighty  in  such  a  good  old 
state -as  Kansas,"  Leigh  asserted.  "  Only,  big  as  he  is,  he's 
not  a  real  strong  man,  and  crumples  down  where  small 
nervy  men  stand  up." 

"Well,  lady  landlord,  how  can  I  advise  you?  You  are 
past  advising.  You  have  already  bought,"  Thaine  said. 


248  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"You  can  tell  me  how  to  pay  for  the  ranch,"  Leigh 
declared  calmly.  "  I  bought  of  Darley  Champers  for  six 
teen  hundred  dollars.  I  paid  two  hundred  down  just  now. 
I've  been  saving  it  two  years ;  since  I  left  the  high  school  at 
Careyville.  Butter  and  eggs  and  chickens  and  some  other 
things."  She  hesitated,  and  a  dainty  pink  tint  swept  her 
cheek. 

Why  should  a  girl  be  so  deliciously  fair  with  the  bloom 
of  summer  on  her  cheeks  and  with  little  ringlets  curling 
in  baby-gold  hair  about  her  temples  and  at  her  neck,  and 
with  such  red  lips  sweet  to  kiss,  and  then  put  about  herself 
a  faint  invisible  something  that  should  make  the  young  man 
beside  her  blush  that  he  would  even  think  of  being  so  rude 
as  to  try  to  kiss  her. 

"  And  you  paid  how  much  ?  "  Thaine  asked  gravely. 

"  Two  hundred  dollars.  I  want  to  borrow  fourteen  hun 
dred  more  and  get  it  clear  away  from  Darley  Champers. 
I'm  sure  with  a  ranch  again,  Uncle  Jim  will  be  able  to  win 
out,"  Leigh  insisted. 

"What's  on  it  now?"  Thaine  asked. 

"  Just  weeds  and  a  million  sunflowers.  Enough  to  send 
Prince  Quippi  such  a  message  he'd  have  to  write  back  a 
real  love  letter  to  me,"  Leigh  replied. 

"Leighlie,  you  can't  do  it.  You  might  pay  interest 
maybe,  year  in  and  year  out,  the  gnawing,  wearing  inter 
est.  That's  all  you'd  do  even  with  your  hens  and  butter. 
Don't  undertake  the  burden." 

"I've  already  done  it,"  Leigh  declared. 

"  Throw  it  up.     You  can't  make  it,"  Thaine  urged. 

"  I  know  I  can,"  Leigh  maintained  stoutly. 

"You  can't." 


The  Coburn  Book  249 

can.5 

"How?"  Thaine  queried  hopelessly. 

"If  I  can  get  the  loan  — " 

"Which  you  can't,"  Thaine  broke  in.  "Any  man  on 
Grass  River  will  tell  you  the  same,  if  you  don't  want  to 
believe  the  word  of  a  nineteen-year-old  boy." 

"Thaine,  I  must  do  something.  Even  our  home  is 
mortgaged.  Everything  is  slipping  out  from  under  us. 
You  don't  know  what  that  means." 

"  My  father  and  mother  knew  it  over  and  over."  Thaine's 
face  was  full  of  sympathy. 

"  And  they  won  out.  I'm  not  so  foolish  after  all.  When 
they  came  out  here,  they  took  the  prairies  as  Nature  had 
left  them,  grass-covered  and  waiting.  I'm  taking  them  as 
the  boom  left  them,  weed-covered  and  waiting.  I'll  earn 
the  interest  myself  and  make  the  land  pay  the  principal 
and  I  know  exactly  how  it  will  do  it,  too." 

"Tell  me  how,"  Thaine  demanded. 

"  It's  no  dream.  I  got  the  idea  out  of  a  Coburn  book  last 
winter,"  Leigh  replied. 

"  You  mean  the  State  Agricultural  Report  of  Secretary 
Coburn  ?  Funny  place  to  hunt  for  inspiration ;  queer  gos 
pel,  I'd  say,"  Thaine  declared.  "Why  didn't  you  go  to 
the  census  report  of  1890,  or  Radway's  Ready  Relief 
Almanac,  or  the  Unabridged  Dictionary?" 

"All  right,  you  despiser  of  small  things.  It  was  just  an 
agricultural  report  full  of  tables  and  statistics  and  com 
parative  values  and  things  that  I  happened  on  one  day 
when  things  were  looking  blackest,  and  right  in  the  middle 
I  found  a  page  that  Foster  Dwight  Coburn  must  have  put 
in  just  for  me,  I  guess.  There  was  a  little  sketch  of  an 


250  Winning  the  Wilderness 

alfalfa  piano  with  its  long  good  roots,  and  just  one  para 
graph  beside  it  with  the  title, '  The  Silent  Subsoiler.' " 

"  That  sounds  well,"  Thaine  observed.  He  was  listening 
eagerly  in  spite  of  his  joking,  and  his  mind  was  alert  to  the 
girl's  project. 

"Mr.  Coburn  said,"  Leigh  went  on,  "that  there  are 
some  silent  subsoilers  that  do  their  work  with  ease  and  as 
effectually  as  any  plow  ever  hitched,  and  the  great  one  of 
these  is  alfalfa ;  that  it  is  a  reservoir  of  wealth  that  takes 
away  the  fear  of  protest  and  over-draft." 

"Well,  and  what  if  Coburn  is  right?"  Thaine  queried. 

"  Listen,  now.  I  planned  how  I'd  get  back  that  old  claim 
of  Uncle  Jim's ;  how  I'd  pay  some  money  down  and  borrow 
the  rest,  and  begin  seeding  it  to  alfalfa.  Then  I'll  churn 
and  feed  chickens  and  make  little  sketches  of  water  lilies, 
maybe,  and  pay  the  interest  and  let  the  alfalfa  pay  off 
the  principal.  I  haven't  any  father  or  mother,  Thaine; 
Uncle  Jim  is  all  I  have.  He  hasn't  always  been  successful 
in  business  ventures,  but  he's  always  been  honest.  He  has 
nothing  to  blush  for,  nothing  to  keep  hidden.  I  know 
we'll  win  now,  for  that  writing  of  Foster  Dwight  Coburn's 
is  true.  Don't  try  to  discourage  me,  Thaine,"  she  looked 
up  writh  shining  eyes. 

"You  are  a  silent  little  subsoiler  yourself,  Leigh,  doing 
your  work  effectually.  Of  course  you'll  win,  you  brave 
girl.  I  wish  it  was  a  different  kind  of  work,  though." 

A  low  peal  of  thunder  rolled  up  from  the  darkening 
horizon,  and  the  sun  disappeared  behind  the  advancing 
clouds. 

"That's  our  notice  to  quit  the  premises.  I  shouldn't 
want  to  ford  Little  Wolf  in  a  storm.  It  is  ugly  enough 


The  Coburn  Book  251 

any  time  and  was  bank  full  when  I  took  Rosie  Posie  over 
this  morning.  And  say,  her  mother's  got  a  face  like  a 
brass  bedstead." 

Thaine  was  lifting  the  buggy  top  as  he  spoke.  Suddenly 
he  exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  Leigh,  look  down  yonder." 

He  pointed  down  the  little  rift  toward  the  water. 

"  Where  ?  "  Leigh  asked,  looking  in  the  direction  of  his 
hand. 

"Across  the  creek,  around  by  the  side  of  that  hill. 
That's  the  Gimpke  home  stuck  in  there  where  you'd  never 
think  of  looking  for  a  house  from  up  here.  They  can  see 
anybody  that  goes  up  this  lonely  hill  and  nobody  can 
see  them.  If  I  was  gunning  for  Gimpkes,  I'd  lie  in  wait 
right  here,"  Thaine  declared. 

"Maybe,  if  the  Gimpkes  were  gunning  for  you,  they 
could  pick  you  off  as  you  went  innocently  up  this  Kyber 
Pass  and  you'd  never  know  what  hit  you  nor  live  to  tell 
the  tale;  and  they  so  snugly  out  of  sight  nobody  but 
you  would  ever  have  sighted  them,"  Leigh  replied.  "  But 
let's  hurry  on.  It  will  be  cooler  on  the  open  prairie  than 
down  there  along  the  creek  trail.  And  if  we  are  storm- 
stayed,  we  are  storm-stayed,  that's  all." 

"You  are  the  comfortablest  girl  a  fellow  could  have, 
Leighlie.  You  aren't  a  bit  scared  of  storms  like  —  " 

"  Yes,  like  Jo.  I  can't  help  it.  I  never  was  much  of  a 
'  fraid  cat,  but  I  don't  mind  admitting  I  am  fonder  of 
water  in  lakes  and  rivers  and  water-color  drawings  than 
thumping  down  on  my  head  from  the  little  end  of  a  cyclone 
funnel." 

The  air  grew  cooler  in  their  homeward  ride,  while  they 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


followed  the  same  old  Sunflower  Trail  that  Asher  and  Vir 
ginia  Aydelot  had  followed  one  September  day  a  quarter  of 
a  century  before.  And,  for  some  reason,  they  did  not  stop 
to  question,  neither  was  eager  to  reach  the  end  of  the  trail 
today. 

As  they  came  to  a  crest  of  the  prairie  looking  down  a 
long  verdant  slope  toward  what  was  now  a  woodsy  draw, 
Thaine  said,  "Leigh,  my  mother  was  lost  here  somewhere 
once  and  Doctor  Carey  found  her.  Maybe  Doctor  Carey 
is  the  man  to  help  you  now.'5 

"  Oh,  Thaine,  I  believe  I  could  ask  Doctor  Carey  for 
anything.  You  are  so  good  to  think  of  him,"  Leigh 
exclaimed.  "I  knew  you'd  help  me  out." 

"Yes,  I'm  good.  That's  my  trade,"  Thaine  replied. 
"And  I'm  pretty  brave  to  offer  advice,  too.  But  if  you 
want  to  talk  any  about  courage,  mine's  a  different  brand 
from  yours.  I  may  be  a  soldier  myself  some  day.  Brother 
Aydelot  of  the  Sunflower  Ranch,  trustee  of  the  Grass  River 
M.  E.  Church,  fit,  bled,  and  died  in  the  Civil  War  and 
was  not  quite  my  age  now  when  he  came  out  all  battle- 
scoured  and  gory.  I  always  said  I'd  be  a  soldier  like  my 
popper.  But  I'd  fall  in  a  dead  faint  before  that  alfalfa 
and  mortgage  business  you  face  like  a  hero.  It's  getting 
cooler.  See,  the  storm  didn't  get  this  side  of  the  purple 
notches  ;  it  stayed  over  there  with  Pryor  Gaines  and  Prince 
Quippi." 

They  rode  awhile  in  silence,  then  Thaine  said:  "Leigh, 
I  will  go  up  to  Careyville  and  send  Doctor  Carey  down  to 
Cloverdale  to  see  you.  It  will  save  you  some  time  at  least, 
and  I'll  tell  him  you  want  to  see  him  particularly  and  alone. 
You  cap  tell  me  the  result  Sunday  if  you  want  to." 


The  Coburn  Book  253 

Leigh  did  not  reply,  but  gratitude  in  the  violet  eyes 
made  words  unnecessary. 

On  the  Sabbath  after  the  party,  Thaine  Aydelot  waited 
at  the  church  door  for  Jo  Bennington,  who  loitered  out 
slowly,  chatting  the  while  with  Todd  Stewart. 

"Let  me  take  you  home,  Jo.  I  see  your  carriage  will 
be  full  with  the  company  you  will  have  today,"  Thaine 
said. 

Jo  looked  with  a  pretty  pout  at  the  invited  guests  gath 
ered  about  her  mother  and  father  waiting  for  her  at  the 
family  carriage. 

"Thank  you,  yes.  I  am  glad  to  get  away  from  those 
tiresome  goody-goodies.  It  looks  like  the  Benningtons  are 
taking  the  whole  official  board  and  the  '  amen  corner '  home 
for  dinner." 

"Then  come  to  the  Sunflower  Inn  and  dine  with  me. 
Rosie  Gimpke  came  back  last  night  and  she  promised  me 
shortcake  and  sauerkraut  and  pretzels  and  schooners  of 
Grass  River  water.  Do  come." 

Indeed,  Thaine  had  been  most  uncomfortable  since  the 
day  at  Wykerton,  and  he  wanted  to  be  especially  good  to 
Jo  now.  He  didn't  know  exactly  why,  nor  had  he  felt  any 
jealousy  at  the  bright  looks  and  the  leisure  preference  she 
had  just  given  to  Todd  Stewart. 

"Oh,  you  are  too  good.  Yes,  I'll  go,  of  course,"  Jo 
exclaimed.  "Can't  we  go  down  to  the  grove  and  see  the 
lilies  this  afternoon,  too?" 

"Yes,  we  can  go  to  China  if  we  want  to,"  Thaine  de 
clared.     "Wait  here  in  the  shade  until  I  drive  up." 
and   much   chatting   of   neighbors   was    everywhere.      Jim 

Teams  were  being  backed  away  from  the  hitching-rack, 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


Shirley  was  not  at  church  today,  and  Jo  saw  Leigh  Shirley 
going  alone  toward  the  farther  end  of  the  rack  where  her 
buggy  stood,  while  three  or  four  young  men  were  rushing 
to  untie  her  horse.  Jo,  turning  to  speak  to  some  neigh 
bors,  did  not  notice  who  had  outdistanced  the  others  in  this 
country  church  courtesy  until  she  realized  that  the  crowd 
was  going,  and  down  the  deserted  hitching  line  Leigh  Shir 
ley  sat  in  her  buggy  talking  with  Thaine,  who  was  standing 
beside  it  with  his  foot  on  the  step,  looking  up  earnestly 
into  her  face. 

Jo  was  no  better  pleased  that  Leigh's  face  was  like  a  fair 
picture  under  her  white  hat,  and  she  felt  her  own  cheeks 
flushing  as  she  saw  how  cool  and  poised  and  unhurried  her 
little  neighbor  appeared. 

"  Thank  you,  Thaine.  All  right.  Don't  forget,  then," 
Jo  heard  her  say  as  she  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  noted 
that  it  was  her  motion  and  not  the  young  man's  that  cut 
short  the  interview. 

"Leigh  is  a  leech  when  she  has  the  chance,"  Jo  said 
jokingly,  as  the  two  sat  in  the  Aydelot  buggy  at  last. 

When  one  has  grown  up  from  babyhood  the  ruling  spirit 
in  a  neighborhood,  her  opinions  are  to  be  accepted. 

Thaine  gave  Jo  a  quick  look  but  said  nothing. 

"By  the  way,  papa  says  Jim  isn't  very  well  this  sum 
mer.  Says  he  still  grieves  over  the  farm  he  lost.  Leigh 
hasn't  much  ahead  of  her,  nailed  down  to  a  chicken  lot 
and  a  cow  pasture  and  a  garden.  I  wonder  they  don't  move 
to  town.  She'd  get  a  clerkship,  maybe." 

Thaine  only  waited,  and  Jo  ran  on. 

"I'd  never  stay  in  the  country  a  minute  if  I  could  get 
to  town.  I'll  be  glad  when  papa's  elected  treasurer,  so  we 


The  Coburn  Book  255 

can  live  in  Careyville  again.  Poor  Leigh.  Doesn't  she 
look  like  a  drudge?" 

Still  Thaine  was  silent. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  something  ?  "  Jo  demanded,  looking 
coquettishly  at  him. 

"About  what?"  he  asked  gravely. 

"About  Leigh.  I  don't  want  to  do  all  the  gossiping. 
Tell  me  what  you  think  of  her." 

"  It  would  take  a  Cyclopedia  Britannica  set  of  volumes 
to  do  that,"  Thaine  replied. 

"Oh,  be  serious  and  answer  my  questions,"  Jo  de 
manded. 

" '  Doesn't  she  look  like  a  drudge?  ' "  What  kind  of  an 
answer  —  information  or  just  my  opinion?" 

"  Oh,  your  opinion,  of  course,"  Jo  said. 

"If  she  looks  like  a  drudge,  it's  what  she  is."  The 
young  man's  eyes  were  on  his  team. 

"  I  thought  you  liked  her,"  Jo  insisted. 

"  I  do,"  Thaine  replied. 

"How  much,  pray?" 

"  I  haven't  measured  yet." 

Thaine  Aydelot  was  by  inheritance  a  handsome  young 
fellow,  and  as  he  turned  now  to  his  companion,  something 
in  his  countenance  gave  it  a  manliness  not  usual  to  his 
happy-go-lucky  expression.  But  the  same  unpenetrable 
something  beyond  which  no  one  could  see  was  always  on 
his  face  when  Jo  talked  of  Leigh. 

"  How  much  do  you  like  me  ?  "  The  query  was  daringly 
put,  but  the  beauty  of  the  girl's  striking  face  seemed  to 
warrant  anything  from  her  lips,  however  daring. 

"A    tremendous    lot,    I    know    that,"    Thaine    replied 


256  Winning  the  Wilderness 

quickly,  and  Jo  dropped  her  eyes  and  began  to  chatter  of 
other  things. 

In  the  afternoon  the  cool  grove  was  inviting,  and  Thaine 
and  Jo  loitered  about  in  careless  enjoyment  of  woodland 
shadows  and  wind-dimpled  waters  and  Sabbath  quiet  and 
one  another. 

"  I  want  father  to  have  a  little  boathouse  over  by  the  lily 
corner  and  make  a  picnic  place  here  sometime,"  Thaine 
said  as  they  sat  by  the  lake  in  the  late  afternoon. 

"  Such  a  nice  place  for  you  to  come  in  the  summer. 
Aren't  you  glad  you  don't  just  have  to  stay  in  the 
country  ?  "  Jo  asked. 

"Would  you  never  be  satisfied  in  the  country,  Jo?" 
Thaine  queried.  "  Not  if  you  had  a  home  there  ?  " 

Jo  blushed  and  her  face  was  exquisite  in  its  rich  col 
oring. 

"Would  you  be?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  I'd  like  to  do  something  worth  while,"  Thaine 
replied.  "Father  doesn't  say  much,  but  he  wants  me 
here,  I  know." 

"He  will  get  over  it,  I'm  sure,"  Jo  insisted.  "Why 
should  the  first  generation  here  weight  us  all  down  here, 
too?  I  hope  you'll  not  give  up  to  your  father.  I 
wouldn't,"  Jo  said  defiantly. 

"Did  you  ever  give  up  to  him?"  Thaine  asked. 

"  No,  he  gives  up  to  me."  The  words  were  too  sweetly 
said  to  seem  harsh. 

"  I  don't  blame  him,"  Thaine  added. 

"I  don't  believe  any  of  our  crowd  will  stay  here  like 
the  old  folks  have  done,  except  Todd  Stewart  and,  of 
course,  Leigh,"  Jo  declared. 


The  Coburn  Book  257 

"  Say,  Jo,  my  folks  don't  look  old  to  me.  Mummie  is 
younger  and  good-lookinger  than  anybody,  except  —  " 

"Leigh  Shirley,"  Jo  broke  in. 

Thaine  looked  at  his  watch  without  replying. 

"Is  it  late?  You  must  take  me  home,  now,"  Jo  said. 
66  You'll  be  over  tonight,  won't  you?  We  will  have  some 
company  from  Careyville  who  want  to  meet  you." 

"  I'm  sorry,  but  I  promised  Leigh  up  here  at  church  that 
I'd  go  over  to  Cloverdale  for  a  little  while  tonight." 

Thaine  could  not  tell  Jo  of  Leigh's  affairs,  and  he  felt 
that  the  Shirleys'  intimacy  with  his  father's  family  and  his 
own  expressed  admiration  and  attention  to  Jo  were  suffi 
cient  to  protect  him  from  jealousy.  Jo  stiffened  visibly. 

"  Thaine  Aydelot,  what's  the  reason  for  your  actions  — 
Oh,  I  don't  care.  Go  to  Shirley's,  by  all  means.  Every 
body  to  his  likes,"  she  cried  angrily. 

"Well,  that's  my  rathers  for  tonight,  and  I  can't  help 
it,"  Thaine  answered  hotly. 

"  Of  course  you  can't.  Let's  go  home  quick  so  you  can 
get  off  early,"  Jo  said  in  an  angered  tone. 

"I'll  go  as  slowly  as  I  can.  You  can't  get  rid  of  me 
so."  Thaine  was  getting  control  of  himself  again. 

"  Say,  Thaine,  tell  me  why  you  go  away  from  our  com 
pany  tonight,"  Jo  pleaded  softly,  putting  her  hand  on  her 
companion's  arm.  "  Don't  you  care  to  come  to  our  house 
any  more?" 

They  were  in  the  buggy  now  on  the  driveway  across  the 
lake.  Thaine  recalled  the  moonlight  hour  when  he  sat  with 
Leigh,  of  how  little  Leigh  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  her 
self,  of  how  he  had  admired  her  because  she  demanded  no 
admiration  from  him.  Was  there  an  obligation  demanded 


258  Winning  the  Wilderness 

here  today?  And  had  he  given  grounds  for  such  obliga 
tion?  Past  question,  he  had. 

"  Jo,  you  must  take  me  just  as  I  am,"  he  said.  "  All  the 
boys  are  ready  to  crowd  into  any  place  I  vacate  around 
Cyrus  Bennington's  premises.  You  won't  miss  one  from 
your  company  tonight.  I  may  get  desperate  —  and  kill  off 
a  few  of  them  sometime  to  make  you  really  miss  me." 

He  knew  he  was  talking  foolishly.  He  had  felt  himself 
superior  to  the  other  young  men  who  obeyed  every  wish 
of  Jo's.  He  had  been  flattered  always  by  her  evident  pref 
erence  for  his  company,  and  had  not  thought  of  himself 
as  being  controlled  by  her  before.  He  had  been  too  willing 
to  do  her  bidding.  Today,  for  the  first  time,  her  rule  was 
irksome.  In  spite  of  his  efforts  to  be  agreeable,  the  drive 
homeward  was  not  a  happy  one. 

It  was  twilight  when  Thaine  reached  the  Cloverdale 
Ranch  and  found  Leigh  waiting  for  him  on  the  wide  porch. 
All  the  way  down  the  river  he  had  been  calling  himself 
names  and  letting  his  conscience  stab  him  unmercifully. 
And  once  when  something  spoke  within  him,  saying,  "  You 
never  told  Jo  you  were  fond  of  her.  You  have  not  done 
her  any  wrong,"  he  stifled  back  the  pleasing  voice  and 
despised  himself  for  trying  to  find  such  excuse.  He  was 
only  nineteen  and  had  not  had  the  stern  discipline  of  war 
that  Asher  Aydelot  had  known  at  the  same  age. 

Jo  had  offered  no  further  complaint  at  his  refusing  her 
invitation.  She  played  the  vastly  more  effective  part  of 
being  grieved  but  not  angry,  and  her  quiet  good-by  was 
so  unlike  pretty  imperious  Jo  Bennington  that  Thaine 
was  tempted  to  go  back  and  spend  the  evening  in  her  com 
pany.  Yet,  strangely  enough,  he  did  not  blame  Leigh  for 


The  Coburn  Book  259 

being  the  cause  of  his  discomfort,  as  he  should  have  done. 
As  he  neared  her  home,  his  conscience  grew  less  and  less 
noisy,  and  when  he  sat  at  last  in  Jim  Shirley's  easy  porch 
chair  with  Leigh  in  a  low  rocker  facing  him,  while  the  long 
summer  Sabbath  twilight  was  falling  on  the  peaceful  land 
scape  about  him,  he  had  almost  forgotten  Jo's  claim  on  him. 

"  Doctor  Carey  came  down  to  see  me,"  Leigh  was  saying, 
"just  as  you  were  kind  enough  to  ask  him  to  do.  He  told 
me  he  had  no  money  of  his  own  to  loan,  but  he  knew  of  a 
fund  he  might  control  in  a  few  days.  He  had  to  leave 
Kansas  yesterday  on  a  business  trip,  but  he  will  see  me  as 
soon  as  he  comes  back." 

"Better  than  gold!  Your  plans  just  fall  together  and 
fit  in,  don't  they?"  Thaine  exclaimed.  "Will  he  be  back 
in  time,  though?" 

"  Yes.  But  really,  Thaine,"  Leigh's  eyes  were  beautiful 
in  the  twilight,  "  I  never  should  have  thought  of  Doctor 
Carey  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you." 

"  I  am  of  some  use  to  the  community  after  all,"  Thaine 
said  with  serious  face. 

"  You  are  a  great  deal  of  use  to  me,"  Leigh  assured  him. 

"Oh,  anybody  else  could  do  all  I  do  for  you,"  he 
retorted. 

"  But  I  wouldn't  ask  anybody  else,"  the  girl  replied. 

"Not  even  my  mother?  She  thinks  there  is  no  girl  like 
you  this  side  of  heaven,  or  Virginia,  anyhow,  and  she'd 
have  taken  it  up  with  father,"  Thaine  declared. 

"I  thought  of  her,"  Leigh  answered,  "but  in  things 
like  this,  it  is  impossible.  You  said  yourself  that  no  man 
on  Grass  River  would  think  it  a  wise  plan.  Your  father 
won  his  fight  out  here,  even  his  fight  against  the  boom. 


260  Winning  the  Wilderness 

We  have  a  different  wilderness  to  overcome,  I  guess.  Mine 
is  reclaiming  that  Cloverdale  ranch  from  the  Champers 
Company  and  the  weeds.  I  don't  know  where  your  battle 
field  lies,  but  you'll  have  it,  and  it's  because  you  haven't 
won  yet  that  I  can  come  to  you.  You  have  helped  me 
and  you  always  will." 

"  I'm  glad  you  came  to  me,  anyhow,"  Thaine  assured  her. 

They  sat  awhile  looking  out  at  the  prairies  and  the  line 
of  the  river  glistening  in  the  gloaming.  A  faint  pink 
tone  edged  some  gray  cloud  flakes  in  the  southwest  sky  and 
all  the  scene  was  restful  in  the  soft  evening  light. 

At  last  Thaine  said  thoughtfully:  "I  haven't  heard 
the  bugle  trumpet  for  my  call  to  battle  yet.  Maybe  I'll 
find  out  down  at  the  University  and  make  everybody  proud 
of  me  some  day  as  I  am  proud  of  you  in  your  fight  for  a 
weed-covered  quarter  of  prairie  soil.  Jo  Bennington  is 
always  ridiculing  country  life,  and  yet  she's  pretty  fond 
of  Todd  Stewart,  who  is  more  of  a  farmer  every  day." 

A  little  smile  curved  the  corners  of  Leigh's  mouth,  and 
Thaine  knew  her  thoughts. 

"  You  are  not  a  bit  alike,  you  two  girls,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Does  it  make  any  difference?  There's  only  one  of  a 
kind  of  anything  in  this  world,  flower  or  fruit  or  leaf  or 
life,"  Leigh  added.  "  I  found  that  out  in  painting.  There's 
only  one  Jo,  and  one  Pryor  Gaines,  and  one  Jane  Aydelot 
as  I  remember  her  back  in  Ohio;  one  anything  or  any 
body." 

"  And  only  one  Leigh  in  all  the  world." 

It  was  not  the  usual  bantering  tone  now,  and  there  was 
something  in  the  expression  of  Thaine's  handsome  face; 
something  looking  out  from  his  dark  eyes  that  Leigh  did 


The  Coburn  Book 


not  see,  because  she  was  looking  out  at  the  lights  and 
shadows  of  evening. 

The  sunset's  afterglow  had  thrown  a  splendor  far  up 
the  sky.  In  its  reflected  light,  softened  by  twilight  shad 
ows,  Leigh  made  a  picture  herself  that  an  artist  might  love 
to  paint. 

She  turned  away  at  his  words,  and  a  quiver  of  pain 
swept  her  face  as  Thaine  leaned  toward  her  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  Leigh,  I  wasn't  j  oking.  You  are  so  unlike  any 
body  else.  He  broke  off  suddenly.  But  Leigh  was  herself 
again  and,  smiling  frankly,  she  added,  "Let's  count  our 
blessings,  then,  and  be  thankful  it's  no  worse." 

Thaine  rose  at  once. 

"I  must  be  going.  It  is  after  eight  and  I  ought  to  be 
at  Bennington's  now.  I  am  so  glad,  I  am  so  honored,  to 
have  your  confidence.  Won't  you  keep  telling  me  your 
plans,  and  if  I  can  help  you,  will  you  let  me  do  it?  " 

He  had  taken  Leigh's  hand  in  good-by  and  held  it  as  he 
put  the  question. 

"  I'll  be  so  glad  to  have  your  help,  for  we  will  see  things 
alike,  not  as  the  older  people  see  for  us.  It  is  only  at  our 
age  that  we  dare  take  risks.  Your  father  and  Uncle  Jim 
wouldn't  come  to  Kansas  now  if  it  were  now  like  it  was 
when  they  were  twenty-one." 

Thaine  did  not  release  her  hand. 

"  I'm  glad  there  is  only  one  Leigh,"  he  said  softly. 

The  light  of  his  eyes  and  the  sympathetic  tone  seemed 
all  unlike  the  heir  of  the  Sunflower  Ranch,  yet  very  much 
like  the  spirit  of  the  father  who  had  wrested  it  from  the 
wilderness,  and  the  mother  who  had  courageously  shared 
his  every  need. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"I  don't  know  tonight  where  my  wilderness  lies.  But  I 
hope,  little  girl,  I  hope  I'll  fight  as  good  a  battle  on  my 
frontier  as  my  father  has  done  —  as  you  are  doing. 
Good-night." 

He  hurried  away  and,  falling  into  the  gay  company  at 
Bennington's,  was  welcomed  by  Jo  as  a  penitent,  and 
abundantly  forgiven. 

While  down  at  Cloverdale,  Leigh  Shirley  sat  long  alone, 
looking  with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  twilight  into  which  he 
had  vanished. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  HUMANENESS  OF  CHAMPERS 

What  is  the  use  of  trying  to  make  things  worse? 
Let's  find  things  to  do,  and  forget  things. 

—  The  Light  That  Failed. 

ON  the  third  day  after  Darley  Champers  had  closed 
with  Leigh  Shirley,  Horace  Carey  walked  into  his 
office. 

"Hello,  Champers,  how's  business?"  he  asked,  with  the 
cheerful  way  that  drew  even  his  enemies  to  him. 

"Danged  bad!"  Champers  replied.  "Rotten  world  is 
full  of  danged  fools  who  want  money  and  ain't  satisfied 
when  you  get  it  for  'em." 

"  Have  you  made  such  a  sale  lately  ?  "  Carey  inquired. 

"  Yes ;  day  before  yesterday,"  Champers  replied. 

"Was  it  the  old  Jim,  Shirley  quarter,  the  Cloverdale 
Ranch?"  the  doctor  asked. 

"  The  very  place,  and  I'm  in  a  devil  of  a  fix,  too," 
Darley  Champers  declared.  "  The  trouble  is  I'm  dead  sure 
I'll  not  get  the  other  fourteen  hundred." 

Thomas  Smith  had  been  paid  the  two  hundred  dollars 
and  had  fully  released  the  land  to  Champers  to  finish  the 
sale.  Unfortunately  for  Champers,  Smith  still  hung  about 
Wykerton,  annoying  his  agent  so  much  that  in  a  fit  of 
anger,  Champers  revealed  the  fact  that  Leigh  Shirley  was 
the  buyer  of  the  Cloverdale  Ranch.  Smith's  rage  was  the 
greater  because  he  did  not  believe  the  price  money  could 
be  paid  by  a  girl  without  resources,  and  against  this  girl 

263 


264  Winning  the  Wilderness 

he  was  not  now  ready  to  move.  The  burden  of  the  whole 
matter  now  was  that  Darley  Champers  had  taken  his  life 
in  his  own  hands  by  the  deal.  The  bulldog  in  Champers 
was  roused  now,  and,  while  he  was  a  good  many  things  evil, 
he  was  not  a  coward. 

But  for  his  anger  this  morning,  he  would  hardly  have 
been  so  free  in  answering  Doctor  Carey's  query.  Carey 
was  a  living  rebuke  to  him,  and  no  man  loves  that  force 
anywhere. 

"  I  tell  you,  I'm  in  a  devil  of  a  fix,"  he  repeated. 

"Well,  be  wise  and  go  to  a  doctor  in  time,"  Doctor 
Carey  said,  only  half  in  jest.  "Champers,  we  haven't 
always  worked  together  out  here,  but  I  guess  we  know 
each  other  pretty  well.  I'm  willing  to  trust  you.  Are  you 
afraid  to  trust  me  ?  " 

Darley  Champers  leaned  back  in  his  office  chair  and 
stared  at  the  questioner. 

Horace  Carey's  heavy  hair  was  very  white  now,  although 
he  was  hardly  fifty-five  years  old.  The  decades  of  conse 
crated  service  to  his  profession  had  told  only  in  this  one 
feature.  His  face  was  the  face  of  a  vigorous  man,  and 
something  in  his  life,  maybe  the  meaning  of  giving  up  and 
the  meaning  of  the  service,  he  once  told  Jim  Shirley,  he 
had  known,  had  left  upon  his  countenance  their  mark  of 
strength.  As  Darley  Champers  looked  at  this  face,  he  real 
ized,  as  he  had  never  done  before,  the  freedom  and  joy  of 
an  unsullied  reputation  and  honest  dealing. 

"Lord,  no,  I'd  trust  you  in  hell,  Doc,"  he  exclaimed 
bluntly. 

"I  won't  put  it  to  the  proof,"  the  doctor  assured  him. 
"•Nor  will  I  trouble  you  nor  myself  with  any  matter  not 


The  Humaneness  of  Champers  265 

concerning  us  two.  Tell  me  frankly  all  the  trouble  about 
this  sale." 

Briefly,  Champers  explained  Smith's  hatred  of  Jim  Shir 
ley,  and  his  anger  at  the  present  sale. 

"  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  not  break  your  word  to  Miss 
Shirley,"  Horace  Carey  said.  "  I  happen  to  know  that  the 
money  will  be  ready  for  you.  This  Smith  is  the  same  man 
who  came  to  old  Carey's  Crossing  years  ago,  of  course?" 

"Why,  do  you  remember  him?"  Darley  Champers  asked 
in  surprise. 

"  I've  crossed  his  trail  a  hundred  times  since  then,  and  it's 
always  an  ill-smelling  trail.  Some  day  I  may  follow  it  a 
bit  myself.  You'll  do  well  to  break  with  him,"  the  doctor 
assured  him. 

"  If  Doc  Carey  ever  starts  on  that  hyena's  trail,  I'd  like 
to  be  in  at  the  end  of  the  chase,"  Champers  declared  with 
a  grin. 

"Why  not  help  a  bit  yourself?  I'm  going  East  for  a 
week.  When  I  come  back,  I'll  see  you.  Maybe  I  can  help 
you  a  little  to  get  his  claws  unhooked  from  your  throat," 
Carey  suggested,  and  the  two  men  shook  hands  and 
separated. 

Champers  stood  up  and  breathed  deeply.  The  influence 
of  an  upright  man's  presence  is  inspiring.  Horace  Carey 
did  not  dream  that  his  confidence  and  good  will  that  day 
were  turning  the  balances  for  Darley  Champers  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life.  Champers  was  by  nature  a  ferret, 
and  Carey's  parting  words  took  root  and  grew  in  his 
mind. 

The  May  rains  that  had  flooded  Grass  River  and  its 
tributaries  did  worse  for  Clover  Creek  in  Ohio  a  few  days 


266  Winning  the  Wilderness 

later.  The  lower  part  of  the  town  of  Cloverdale  was 
uncomfortably  submerged  until  the  high  railroad  grade 
across  the  creek  on  the  Aydelot  farm  broke  and  let  the 
back  water  have  broader  outlet. 

Doctor  Carey  had  not  startled  the  same  old  loafers  who 
kept  watch  over  the  railway  station  when  he  suddenly 
dropped  into  the  town  again.  They  were  too  busy  watch 
ing  the  capers  of  Clover  Creek  to  attend  to  their  regular 
post  of  duty.  And  since  he  had  been  a  guest  of  Miss  Jane 
Aydelot  as  much  as  a  half  dozen  times  in  two  decades,  they 
knew  about  what  to  expect  of  him  now. 

They  were  more  interested  in  a  big  bluff  stranger  who 
dropped  into  town  off  the  early  morning  train,  ate  a  plenti 
ful  meal  at  the  depot  restaurant,  and  then  strolled  down  to 
the  creek.  He  loitered  all  day  about  the  spot  where  the 
grade  broke,  nor  did  he  leave  the  place  when  the  crowd  was 
called  away  late  in  the  afternoon  to  a  little  stream  on  the 
other  side  of  town  that  had  suddenly  risen  to  be  a  river  for 
the  first  time  in  the  memory  of  man. 

To  Doctor  Carey,  Jane  Aydelot  looked  scarce  a  day 
older  for  the  dozen  years  gone  by.  Her  days  were  serene 
and  full  of  good  works.  Such  women  do  not  lose  the 
charm  of  youth  until  late  in  life. 

"  I  have  come  for  help,  as  you  told  me  to  do  when  I  took 
Leigh  awa}7,"  Doctor  Carey  said  as  they  sat  on  the  south 
veranda  in  the  pleasant  light  of  the  May  evening. 

Jane  Aydelot's  face  was  expectant.  Nobody  except  Doc 
tor  Carey  knew  how  a  little  hungry  longing  in  her  eyes 
disappeared  when  he  made  his  brief  visits  and  crept  back 
again  when  he  said  goodby. 

"  I  am  waiting  always  to  help  you,"  she  replied. 


The  Humaneness  of  Champers  267 

"  I  need  fourteen  hundred  dollars  to  loan  to  Leigh,  and 
I  must  have  that  sum  at  once." 

Miss  Jane  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  deep  woodland, 
hiding  the  marshes  as  of  old. 

"I  can  arrange  it,"  she  said  presently.  "Tell  me 
about  it." 

And  Horace  Carey  told  her  all  of  Leigh's  plans. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  undertaking  for  a  girl,  but  she  has 
faith  in  herself,  and  if  she  fails,  the  land  is  abundantly 
worth  the  mortgage  with  nothing  but  weeds  on  it,"  the 
doctor  explained.  "  She  is  a  charming  girl.  She  seems  to 
have  inherited  all  of  her  mother's  sweetness  and  artistic 
gifts,  without  her  mother's  submissiveness  to  others ;  and 
from  her  father,  she  has  keen  business  qualities,  but  fails 
to  inherit  his  love  of  gain  and  traits  of  trickery.'  Her 
executive  mind  with  her  uncle's  good  heart  make  a  winning 
team.  By  the  way,  my  affection  for  Jim  Shirley  is  leading 
me  to  make  some  quiet  investigation  of  an  agent  of  Tank's 
who  is  hounding  Jim  and  will,  I  suppose,  turn  against 
Leigh.  Can  you  help  me  at  all  ?  " 

Doctor  Carey  had  always  felt  that  Miss  Jane  knew  much 
more  than  she  cared  to  tell  of  the  Shirley  family's  affairs. 

She  rose  without  replying  and  went  into  the  house.  In 
a  few  minutes  she  returned  and  gave  a  large  sealed  envelope 
into  Doctor  Carey's  hands. 

"Do  not  use  that  until  it  is  needed  to  protect  someone 
from  Tank  Shirley's  violence.  It  is  legally  drawn  and  wit 
nessed.  You  will  find  it  effective  if  it  is  needed  at  all." 

"I  have  one  more  duty,  Miss  Aydelot,"  Doctor  Carey 
said.  "  My  time  is  brief.  I  have  an  intuition,  too,  that  I 
may  never  come  East  again." 


268  Whining  the  Wilderness 

Jane  Aydelot's  face  whitened,  and  her  hands  closed  invol 
untarily  on  one  another  as  she  waited. 

"  I  must  have  you  and  Asher  Aydelot  reconciled.  What 
can  I  tell  him  of  you  ?  " 

The  pink  flush  returned  to  the  pale  cheeks. 

"Let  him  read  my  will.  I  copied  it  when  I  had  your 
telegram  two  days  ago.  I  cannot  give  him  my  property; 
Uncle  Francis'  will  forbids  it.  But  —  take  the  copy  with 
you.  I  hope  my  wishes  will  be  realized." 

Doctor  Carey  held  her  hand  long  when  he  bade  her 
good-by.  In  her  clear  gray  eyes  he  read  a  story  that  gave 
him  infinite  sorrow.  Stooping  down,  he  put  his  arm  gently 
about  her  shoulders  and,  drawing  her  to  him,  kissed  her  once 
on  her  forehead,  and  once  —  just  once  —  on  her  lips,  and 
was  gone. 

They  never  met  again.  But  those  who  knew  her  best 
in  Cloverdale  remember  yet  that  from  the  Maytime  of  that 
year,  Miss  Jane's  face  was  glorified  with  a  light  never 
there  before. 

Down  at  the  creek,  Doctor  Carey  saw  a  large  man  in 
tently  studying  the  bank  beyond  the  break  in  the  railroad 
grade.  Something  made  the  doctor  pass  slowly,  for  the 
figure  appealed  to  his  interest.  Presently,  the  man  turned 
away  and,  climbing  up  to  the  National  pike  road  before 
him,  made  his  way  into  town.  As  the  last  light  of  evening 
fell  full  upon  him,  it  revealed  to  Doctor  Carey  a  very  white 
face,  and  eyes  that  stared,  as  if  seeing  nothing  —  even  the 
bluff  face  and  huge  form  of  Darley  Champers. 

Two  weeks  later  when  Darley  Champers  gave  Leigh 
Shirley  the  deed  in  her  own  name  to  the  Cloverdale  Ranch, 
he  said,  in  his  bluff  way : 


The  Humaneness  of  Champers  269 

"I'm  sayin'  nothin'  against  Jim  Shirley,  madam,  when 
I  say  I  hope  you'll  keep  this  in  your  own  name.  Some 
day  you'll  know  why.  And  I  hope  to  Gawd  you'll  prosper 
with  it.  It's  cost  more'n  the  money  paid  out  for  it  to  get 
that  quarter  section  of  prairie  out  of  the  wilderness.  Sor 
row  and  disappointment,  bad  management,  and  blasted 
hopes,  and  hard  work,  and  hate.  But  I  reckon  it's  clean 
hands  and  a  pure  heart,  as  the  Good  Book  says,  that  you 
are  usin'  now.  This  money  don't  represent  all  it'll  cost  me 
yet  by  a  danged  sight." 

He  bade  her  a  hearty  good-by  and  strode  away. 

The  mortgage  for  the  loan  was  given  to  Horace  Carey, 
as  agreed  upon  between  himself  and  Miss  Jane  Aydelot. 

"  If  Leigh  knows  it's  Aydelot  money  she  might  feel 
like  she's  taking  what  should  be  Thaine's.  Would  the 
Aydelots  feel  the  same  if  they  knew  it?"  Miss  Jane  had 
asked. 

"The  thing  the  Aydelots  have  never  grieved  for  is  this 
Ohio  inheritance,"  Carey  answered  her.  "Asher  gave  it 
up  to  live  his  life  in  his  own  way.  If  you  knew  what  a 
prince  of  a  fellow  he  is,  although  he's  only  a  Kansas 
farmer,  you  would  understand  how  that  prairie  ranch  and 
the  lure  of  the  sunflower  have  gripped  him  to  the  West." 

The  day  after  the  completion  of  the  sale  Dr.  Carey 
went  to  the  Big  Wolf  neighborhood.  In  the  dusk  of  the 
evening  he  drove  up  to  Darley  Champers'  office  in  Wyker- 
ton.  As  he  was  hitching  his  team  Rosie  Gimpke  rushed 
out  of  the  side  street  and  lunged  across  to  the  hitching 
post. 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Carey,  coom  queek  mit  me,"  she  exclaimed 
in  a  whisper.  "  Coom,  I  just  got  here  from  Mis'  Aydelot's. 


270  Winning  the  Wilderness 

They  mak'  me  coom  home  to  work  at  the  Wyker  House, 
ant  a  man  get  hurt  bad  in  there.  Coom,  do  coom,"  she 
urged  in  a  frenzy  of  eagerness. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  Dr.  Carey  asked. 

"  Coom.  I  show  you.  I  'fraid  the  man  coom  back  and 
finish  heem.  Don't  make  no  noise,  but  coom."  Rosie  was 
clutching  hard  at  Dr.  Carey's  arm  as  she  whispered. 

"That  sounds  surprising,  but  life  is  full  of  surprises," 
the  doctor  thought  as  he  took  up  his  medicine  case  and 
followed  Rosie's  lead. 

The  way  took  them  to  the  alley  behind  the  Wyker 
House,  through  a  rear  gate  to  the  back  door  of  the  kitchen, 
from  which  it  was  a  short  step  to  the  little  "blind  tiger" 
beyond  the  dining  room.  Sounds  of  boisterous  talking  and 
laughter  and  a  general  shuffling  of  dishes  told  that  the 
evening  meal  was  beginning.  For  her  size  and  clumsiness 
Rosie  whisked  the  doctor  deftly  out  of  sight  and  joined 
the  ranks  of  the  waiters  in  the  dining  room. 

The  only  light  inside  the  little  room  came  from  the 
upper  half  of  the  one  window  looking  toward  the  alley. 
As  it  was  already  twilight  the  doctor  did  not  get  his 
bearings  until  a  huge  form  on  the  floor  near  the  table 
made  an  effort  to  rise. 

"What's  the  trouble  here?"  Carey  asked  in  the  sympa 
thetic-professional  voice  by  which  he  controlled  sick  rooms. 

"Lord,  Doc,  is  that  you?"  Darley  Champers  followed 
the  words  with  a  groan. 

"You  are  in  a  fix,"  Carey  replied  as  he  lifted  Champers 
to  his  feet. 

Blood  was  on  his  face  and  clothes  and  the  floor,  and 
Champers  himself  was  almost  too  weak  to  stand. 


The  Humaneness  of  Champers  271 

"  Get  me  out  of  here  as  quick  as  you  can,  Doc,"  he  said 
in  a  thick  voice. 

At  the  same  moment  Rosie  Gimpke  appeared  from  the 
kitchen. 

"  Slip  him  out  queek  now.  I  hold  the  dining  room  door 
tight,"  she  urged,  rushing  back  to  the  kitchen. 

Carey  moved  quickly  and  had  Darley  Champers  safely 
out  and  into  his  own  office  before  Rosie  had  need  to  relax 
her  grip  on  the  dining  room  door-knob. 

"  I  guess  you've  saved  me,"  Champers  said  faintly  as  the 
doctor  examined  his  wounds. 

"Not  as  bad  as  that,"  Dr.  Carey  replied  cheerfully. 
"An  ugly  scalp  wound  and  loss  of  blood,  but  you'll  come 
back  all  right." 

"  And  a  kick  in  the  abdomen,"  Champers  groaned.  "  But 
it  was  from  what  was  comin'  you  saved  me.  I've  never 
been  sick  a  day  in  my  life  and  I've  had  little  sympathy  for 
you  and  your  line,  and  then  to  be  knocked  down  so  quick 
by  a  little  whiffet  like  Smith  and  roll  over  like  a  log  at 
the  first  blow!" 

"  You're  in  luck.  Most  men  in  your  line  ought  to  have 
been  knocked  down  a  good  many  times  before  now,"  the 
doctor  declared.  "  How  did  this  happen  ?  " 

"I  settled  with  Smith  and  made  him  sign  everything 
up  to  a  hog-tight  contract.  Then  he  started  in  to  abuse 
me  till  I  got  tired  and  told  him  I'd  just  got  back  from 
Ohio  and  a  thing  or  two  I  saw  there.  Then  he  suddenly 
belted  me  and,  against  all  rules  of  the  game,  kicked  me 
when  I  was  down,  and  left  me,  threatening  to  come  back 
and  finish  me.  That's  what  you  saved  me  from." 

"  Champers,  my  old  buggy  is  like  a  rocking  chair.     Let 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


me  take  you  home  with  me  for  a  few  days  while  you  are 
wearing  patches  on  your  head,"  Horace  Carey  suggested. 

Darley  Champers  stared  at  his  helper  in  surprise.  Then 
he  said  slowly: 

"  Say,  Doc,  I've  hated  you  a  good  many  years  for  doin' 
just  such  tricks  for  folks.  It  was  my  cussedness  made  me 
do  it,  I  reckon.  I'd  like  to  get  out  of  town  a  little 
while.  That  joint  of  Wyker's  has  seen  more'n  one  fellow 
laid  out,  and  some  of  'em  went  down  Big  Wolf  later,  and 
some  of  'em  fell  into  Little  Wolf  and  never  come  out.  It's 
a  hole,  I  tell  you.  And  Smith  is  a  devil  tonight." 

On  the  homeward  way  Dr.  Carey  said  quietly: 

"  By  the  way,  Champers,  I  saw  you  at  Cloverdale,  Ohio, 
last  week." 

Champers  did  not  start  nor  seem  surprised  as  he  re 
plied  : 

"  Yes,  I  seen  you,  but  I  didn't  want  to  speak  to  nobody 
right  then." 

"  No  ?  "  Dr.  Carey  questioned. 

"No.  I've  got  hold  enough  of  Smith  now  to  make  him 
afraid  of  me  if  I'd  turn  loose.  I'd  a  made  money  by  doin' 
it,  too.  Good  clean  money.  That's  why  he's  gettin'  good 
and  drunk  to  beat  me  up  again  tonight,  maybe." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  tighten  up  on  him?  Why  let  a 
scoundrel  like  that  run  free?"  Carey  inquired. 

"Because  it  might  drag  Leigh  Shirley's  name  into  the 
muss.  And  I'm  no  devourer  of  widders  and  orphans;  I'm 
a  humane  man,  and  I'll  let  Smith  run  till  his  tether  snaps 
and  he  falls  over  the  precipice  and  breaks  his  neck  for 
hisself.  Besides  I'm  not  sure  now  whether  he's  a  agent, 
representin'  some  principal,  or  the  principal  representin' 


The  Humaneness  of  Champers 


hisself.     And  in  that  case  I'd  have  to  deal  the  cards  dif 
ferent  for  him,  and  them  he'd  do  harm  to." 

"You  are  a  humane  man,  Champers,"  Carey  declared. 
"  I  think  I've  hated  you,  too,  a  good  many  years.  These 
gray  hairs  of  ours  ought  to  make  us  better  behaved  now. 
But,  even  if  you  do  let  Smith  run,  that  'blind  tiger'  of 
Wyker's  must  go  out  of  business.  I'll  start  John  Jacobs 
after  that  hole  one  of  these  days.  He  holds  the  balance 
of  power  on  public  sentiment  out  here.  He'll  clear  it  out. 
His  hatred  of  saloons  is  like  Smith's  hatred  of  Shirley, 
only  it's  a  righteous  indignation.  I've  heard  John's  father 
was  a  drunkard  and  his  mother  followed  her  husband  into 
a  saloon  in  Cincinnati  to  persuade  him  out  and  was  killed 
by  a  drunken  tough.  Anyhow,  John  will  break  up  "that 
game  of  Wyker's  one  of  these  times.  See  if  he  doesn't." 

Darley  Champers  slowly  shifted  his  huge  frame  into  an 
easier  posture  as  he  replied: 

"Yes,  he  can  do  it  all  right.  But  mark  me,  now,  the 
day  he  runs  Hans  Wyker  out  of  that  doggery  business 
it  will  be  goodby  to  John  Jacobs.  You  see  if  it  isn't. 
I  wouldn't  start  him  after  it  too  quick." 

Darley  Champers  spent  two  weeks  with  his  physician, 
and  the  many  friends  of  Dr.  Carey  smiled  and  agreed 
with  Todd  Stewart,  who  declared: 

"  Carey  would  win  Satan  to  be  his  fast  friend  if  the  Old 
Scratch  would  only  let  Carey  doctor  him  once." 

But  nobody  understood  how  the  awakening  of  the  latent 
manhood  in  Darley  Champers  and  his  determination  to 
protect  an  orphan  girl  were  winning  the  doctor  to  him 
as  well. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  PURPLE  NOTCHES 

Two  things  greater  than  all  things  are. 
One  is  Love,  and  the  other  War. 
And  since  we  know  not  how  War  may  prove, 
Heart  of  my  heart,  let  us  talk  of  Love. 

— The  Ballad  of  the  King's  Jest. 

>T^HE  summer  ran  its  hot  length  of  days,  but  it  was  a 
-*-  gay  season  for  the  second  generation  in  the  Grass 
River  Valley.  Nor  drouth  nor  heat  can  much  annoy  when 
the  heart  beats  young.  September  would  see  the  first  scat 
tering  of  the  happy  company  for  the  winter.  The  last 
grand  rally  for  the  crowd  came  late  in  August.  Two 
hayrack  loads  of  young  folks,  with  some  few  in  carriages, 
were  to  spend  the  day  at  "  The  Cottonwoods,"  a  far-away 
picnic  ground  toward  the  three  headlands  of  the  southwest. 
Few  of  the  company  had  ever  visited  the  place.  Distances 
are  deceiving  on  the  prairies  and  better  picnic  grounds  lay 
nearer  to  Grass  River. 

On  the  afternoon  before  the  picnic  Leigh  Shirley  took 
her  work  to  the  lawn  behind  the  house. 

What  most  ranches  gave  over  to  weed  patches,  or  hog 
lots,  or  dumping  grounds  along  the  stream,  at  Cloverdale 
had  become  a  shady  clover-sodded  lawn  sloping  down  to 
the  river's  edge.  The  biggest  cottonwoods  and  elms  in  the 
whole  valley  grew  on  this  lawn.  A  hedge  of  lilac  and 
other  shrubbery  bordered  by  sunflowers  and  hollyhocks 
bounded  it  from  the  fields  and  trellises  of  white  honeysuckle 
screened  it  from  the  road. 

In  a  rustic  seat  overlooking  the  river  and  the  prairies 

274 


Leigh  turned  to  see  Thaine  Aydelot  looking  down  at  her  as  he 
leaned  over  the  high  back  of  the  rustic  seat 


The  Purple  Notches  275 

beyond,  Leigh  Shirley  bent  lovingly  above  a  square  of 
heavy  white  paper  on  which  she  was  sketching  a  group  of 
sunflowers  glowing  in  the  afternoon  sunlight.  Leigh's 
talent  was  only  an  undeveloped  inheritance,  but  if  it  lacked 
training  it's  fresh  originality  was  unspoiled. 

"  The  top  of  the  afternoon  to  you." 

Leigh  tuined  to  see  Thaine  Aydelot  looking  down  at 
her  as  he  leaned  over  the  high  back  of  the  rustic  seat.  He 
was  in  his  working  clothes  with  his  straw  hat  set  back, 
showing  his  brown  face.  His  luminous  dark  eyes  were 
shining  and  a  half -teasing,  half-sympathetic  smile  was  on 
his  lips.  But  whatever  the  clothes,  there  was  always  some 
thing  of  the  Southern  gentleman  about  every  man  of  the 
Thaine  blood.  Something  of  the  soldierly  bearing  of  his 
father  had  been  his  heritage  likewise. 

"  May  I  see  your  stuff,  or  is  it  not  for  the  profane  eyes 
of  a  thresher  of  alfalfa  to  look  upon?" 

Leigh  drew  back  and  held  up  her  drawing-board. 

"It's  just  like  you,  Leigh.  You  always  were  an  artist, 
but  when  did  you  learn  all  the  technique?  Is  that  what 
you  call  it?  How  do  you  do  it?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  Leigh  answered  frankly.  "  It  seems  to 
do  itself." 

"And  why  do  you  do  it?  Or  why  don't  you  do  more 
of  it?"  Thaine  asked. 

The  girl  answered,  smiling: 

"  Just  between  us  two,  I  hope  to  do  a  piece  good  enough 
to  sell  and  help  to  lift  the  price  of  alfalfa  seed  a  bit." 

"By  the  way,  I  brought  the  first  load  of  seed  over  just 
now.  Where's  Uncle  Jim?"  Thaine  asked,  trying  not  to 
let  the  pity  in  his  heart  show  itself  in  his  eyes. 


276  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Uncle  Jim  is  breaking  sod  —  weeds,  I  mean  —  for  fall 
sowing.  Wait  a  minute  and  I'll  get  you  the  money  he  left 
for  you." 

Thaine  threw  himself  down  in  the  shade  beside  Leigh's 
seat  while  she  went  into  the  house. 

"I  wish  I  didn't  have  to  take  that  money,  but  I  know 
better  than  to  say  a  word,"  he  said  to  himsetf.  "Thank 
the  Lord,  the  worried  look  is  beginning  to  leave  Uncle 
Jim's  face,  though.  How  could  any  of  us  get  along 
without  Uncle  Jim?" 

"  What  little  seed  to  be  worth  so  much,  but  it's  the  begin 
ning  of  conquest,"  Leigh  said  as  Thaine  took  the  bills 
from  her  hand.  "And  it's  a  much  more  hopeful  business 
to  reclaim  from  booms  and  weeds  than  from  this  lonely  old 
prairie  as  it  was  when  Uncle  Jim  and  your  father  first 
came  here." 

"It's  just  the  same  old  pioneer  spirit,  though,  and  you 
are  fighting  a  mortgage  just  like  they  fought  loneliness, 
and  besides,  Asher  Aydelot  had  Virginia  Thaine  to  help 
him  to  keep  his  courage  up." 

A  sudden  flush  deepened  on  his  ruddy  cheeks  and  he 
continued : 

"Of  course  you  are  going  to  the  picnic?  You'll  have 
to  start  early.  It's  a  goodish  way  to  'The  Cottonwoods.5 
The  Sunflower  Ranch  needs  my  talents,  so  I  can't  go  with 
the  crowd,  but  I  may  draggle  in  about  high  noon.  I'll 
drive  over  in  the  buggy,  and  I'll  try  to  snake  some  pretty 
girl  off  the  wagons  to  ride  home  with  me  when  it's  all  over." 

"Maybe  the  pretty  girls  will  all  be  preempted  before 
you  get  there,"  Leigh  replied. 

"I  know  one  that  I  hope  won't  be,"  Thaine  said. 


The  Purple  Notches  £77 

Leigh  was  bending  over  her  drawing  board  and  did  not 
look  up  for  a  long  minute.  It  was  her  gift  to  make  com 
fort  about  her  while  she  followed  her  own  will  unflinchingly. 
The  breeze  had  blown  the  golden  edges  of  her  hair  into 
fluffy  ripples  about  her  forehead  and  the  deep  blue  of 
August  skies  was  reflected  in  her  blue  eyes  shaded  by  their 
long  brown  lashes.  Thaine  sat  watching  her  every  motion, 
as  he  always  did  when  he  was  with  her. 

"Well?"  Leigh  looked  up  with  the  query.  "And 
what's  to  hinder  your  getting  the  pretty  girl  you  want  if 
she  understands  and  you  are  swift  enough  to  cut  off  the 
enemy  from  a  flank  movement?" 

"  The  girl  herself,"  Thaine  replied. 

"  Serious !  Tragical !  Won't  you  give  me  that  chrome- 
yellow  tube  by  your  elbow  there?"  Leigh  reached  for  the 
paint  and  their  hands  met. 

"  Say,  little  Sketcher  of  Things,  will  you  be  missing  me 
when  I  go  to  school  next  month?  Or  will  your  art  and 
your  ranch  take  all  your  thoughts  ?  " 

"I  wish  they  would,  but  they  won't,"  Leigh  said. 
They  will  help  to  fill  up  the  time,  though." 

"  Leigh,  may  I  bring  you  home  tomorrow  night  ?  I'm 
going  away  the  next  day,  and  I  won't  see  you  any  more 
for  a  long  time." 

"  No,  you  may  not,"  Leigh  replied,  looking  up,  and 
her  sunny  face  framed  by  her  golden  brown  hair  was 
winsomely  pleasing. 

"  Why  not,  Leigh?    Am  I  too  late? " 

"Too  early.  You  haven't  asked  Jo  and  been  refused 
yet.  But  you  are  kind  to  put  me  on  the  '  waiting  list.' " 

Thaine  was  standing  beside  her  now. 


278  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"I  mean  it.  Has  anybody  asked  you  specially — ^to  be 
your  very  particular  escort  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  The  very  nicest  of  the  crowd."  Leigh's  eyes 
were  shining  now.  "  But  I've  refused  him,"  she  added. 

"Who  was  it?" 

"Thaine  Aydelot,  and  I  refused  because  it  was  good 
taste  for  me  to  do  it.  If  it's  his  last  day  at  home  —  and 
—  oh,  I  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  make  a  joke  of  it,  anyhow.  Tell 
me  why  you  are  so  unkind  to  an  old  neighbor  and  lifelong 
pal,"  Thaine  insisted. 

But  Leigh  made  no  reply. 

"Leigh!" 

"Tell  me  why  you  insist  when  by  all  the  rules  you  are 
due  to  snake  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  crowd  off  the  wagon 
and  into  your  buggy.  Why  aren't  you  satisfied  to  make 
the  other  boys  all  envy  you?"  Leigh  had  risen  and  stood 
beside  the  rustic  seat,  her  arm  across  its  high  back. 

"  Because  it  is  the  last  time.  Because  we've  known  each 
other  since  childhood  and  have  been  playmates,  chums, 
companions ;  because  I  am  going  one  way  and  you  another, 
and  our  paths  may  widen  more  and  more,  and  because  — 
oh,  Leigh,  because  I  want  you." 

He  leaned  against  the  back  of  the  seat  and  gently  put 
one  hand  on  her  arm. 

The  yellow  August  sunshine  lay  on  the  level  prairies 
bevond  the  river.  The  shining  thread  of  waters  wound 
away  across  the  landscape  under  a  play  of  light  and 
shadow.  The  clover  sod  at  their  feet  was  soft  and  green. 
The  big  golden  sunflowers  hung  on  their  stalks  along  the 
border  of  the  lawn,  and  overhead  the  ripple  of  the  summer 


The  Purple  Notches  279 

breezes  in  the  cottonwoods  made  a  music  like  pattering 
raindrops.  Under  their  swaying  boughs  Leigh  Shirley 
stood,  a  fair,  sweet  girl.  And  nothing  in  the  languorous 
beauty  of  the  midsummer  afternoon  could  have  been  quite 
so  pleasing  without  her  presence  there. 

She  looked  down  at  Thaine's  big  brown  hand  resting 
against  her  white  arm,  and  then  up  to  his  handsome  face. 

"It  would  only  make  trouble  for,  for  everybody.  No, 
I'm  coming  home  with  the  crowd  on  the  hayrack."  She 
lifted  her  arm  and  began  to  pull  the  petals  from  a  tiny 
sunflower  that  lay  on  the  seat  beside  her. 

"Very  well."  There  was  no  anger  in  Thaine's  tone. 
"  Do  you  remember  the  big  sunflower  we  found  to  send 
to  Prince  Quippi,  once  ?  " 

"The  one  that  should  bring  him  straight  from  China 
to  me,  if  he  really  cared  for  me  ?  "  Leigh  asked. 

"You  said  that  one  was  to  tell  him  that  you  loved  him 
and  you  knew  it  would  bring  him  to  you.  But  he  never 
came." 

"  It's  a  way  my  princes  have  of  doing,"  Leigh  said  with 
a  little  laugh. 

"  If  I  were  in  China  and  you  should  send  me  a  sunflower, 
I'd  know  you  wanted  me  to  come  back." 

"If  I  ever  send  you  one  you  will  know  that  I  do," 
Leigh  said.  "Meantime,  my  prince  will  wear  a  sprig  of 
alfalfa  on  his  coat." 

"And  a  cockle  burr  in  his  whiskers,  and  cerulean  blue 
overalls  like  mine,  and  he'll  drudge  along  in  a  slow  scrap 
with  the  soil  till  the  soil  gets  him,"  Thaine  added. 

"Like  it  got  your  father,"  Leigh  commented. 

"Oh,  he's  just  one  sort  of  a  man  by  himself,"  Thaine 


280  Winning  the  Wilderness 

declared.  "A  pretty  good  sort,  of  course,  else  I'd  never 
have  recommended  him  to  be  my  father.  Good-by.  I'll 
see  you  across  the  crowd  tomorrow." 

He  turned  at  once  and  left  her. 

"  The  Cottonwoods "  was  a  picturesque  little  grove 
grown  in  the  last  decade  about  a  rocky  run  down  which 
in  the  springtime  a  full  stream  swept.  There  was  only  a 
little  ripple  over  a  stony  bed  now,  with  shallow  pools  lost 
in  the  deeper  basins  here  and  there.  The  grasses  lay  flat 
and  broAvn  on  the  level  prairie  about  it.  Down  the  shaded 
valley  a  light  cool  breeze  poured  steadily.  Beyond  the 
stream  a  gentle  slope  reached  far  away  to  the  foot  of  the 
three  headlands  —  the  purple  notches  of  Thaine  Aydelot's 
childhood  fancies. 

The  day  was  ideal.  Such  days  come  sometimes  in  a 
Kansas  August.  The  young  people  of  the  Grass  River 
neighborhood  had  made  merry  half  of  the  morning  in  the 
grove,  and  as  they  gathered  for  the  picnic  lunch  someone 
called  out: 

"Jo  Bennington,  where's  Thaine  Aydelot?  Great  note 
for  him  to  disappear  when  this  Charity  Ball  was  executed 
mainly  for  him." 

"  Better  ask  Todd  Stewart.  He's  probably  had  Thaine 
kidnaped  for  this  occasion,"  somebody  else  suggested. 

"I  tried  to  do  it  and  failed,"  Todd  Stewart  assented. 
"  I  don't  need  him  in  my  business.  He  can  start  to  school 
today  if  he  wants  to." 

"Well,  you  don't  want  him  to  go,  do  you,  Jo?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  especially.  I'm  going  away  myself, 
but  not  to  the  University,  but  I'm  not  going  till  papa's 
elected,"  Jo  replied. 


The  Purple  Notches 


"  And  if  papa's  defeated  we  stay  home  all  winter,  eh  ?  " 
Todd  questioned. 

"  That  all  depends,"  Jo  replied. 

"  Of  course  it  does.  What  is  it,  and  who  depends  on  it  ? 
Jo,  I'll  help  you  if  you  must  defend  yourself." 

Thaine  Aydelot  bounced  down  from  the  rocky  bank 
above  into  the  -midst  of  the  company  and  became  at  once 
Jo's  escort  by  common  consent. 

"Now  life's  worth  living,  Thaine's  here.  Let's  have 
dinner,"  the  boys  urged. 

It  was  not  Leigh  Shirley's  fault  that  Thaine  should  be 
placed  between  her  and  Jo  at  the  spread  of  good  things 
to  eat  ;  nor  Jo's  planning  that  she  should  be  between 
Thaine  and  Todd  Stewart.  But  nobody  could  be  unhappy 
today. 

In  the  late  afternoon  the  crowd  strolled  in  couples  and 
quartettes  and  groups  up  and  down  the  picturesque  place. 

Thaine  had  been  with  Jo  from  the  moment  of  his  com 
ing  and  Leigh  was  glad  that  she  had  not  yielded  to  his 
request  of  the  afternoon  before.  She  had  become  a  little 
separated  from  the  company  as  she  followed  a  trail  of 
golden  sunflowers  down  the  edge  of  the  wide  space  between 
the  stream  and  the  foot  of  the  headlands  towering  far 
beyond  it.  The  sun  had  disappeared  suddenly  and  the 
gleam  of  the  blossoms  dulled  a  trifle.  Leigh  sat  down  on 
a  slab  of  shale  to  study  the  effect  of  the  shadow. 

"Are  you  still  looking  for  a  letter  that  will  bring 
Prince  Quippi  back?"  Thaine  Aydelot  asked  as  he  climbed 
up  from  the  rough  stream  bed  to  a  seat  beside  her. 

"I'm  watching  the  effect  of  sunshine  and  shadow  on 
the  sunflowers,"  Leigh  replied. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"It  will  be  all  shadow  if  you  wait  much  longer.  The 
clouds  are  gathering  now  and  we  must  start  home." 

"Then  I  must  be  going,  too.  It's  a  lovely,  lazy  place 
here,  though.  Some  time  I'm  going  to  the  top  of  those 
bluffs,  away  off  there." 

"Let's  go  up  now,"  Thaine  suggested. 

"But  it's  too  late.  I  mustn't  keep  the  crowd  waiting," 
Leigh  insisted.  "It's  a  stiff  climb,  too." 

"I  can  drive  up.  I  know  a  trail  through  the  brush. 
Let  me  drive  you  up,  Leigh.  It  won't  take  long.  There's 
something  worth  seeing  up  there,"  Thaine  insisted. 

"Well,  be  quick,  Thaine.  We'll  get  into  trouble  if  we 
are  late,"  Leigh  declared. 

The  trail  up  the  steep  slope  twisted  its  way  back  and 
forth  through  the  low  timber  that  covered  the  sides  of  the 
bluffs,  and  the  two  in  the  buggy  found  themselves  shut 
away  in  its  solitary  windings. 

"What  a  shadowy  road,"  Leigh  said.  "And  see  that 
cliff  dropping  down  beyond  that  turn.  How  could  there 
be  such  a  romantic  place  out  on  these  level  plains  ?  " 

"  It  was  my  fairy  land  when  I  was  a  little  tot,"  Thaine 
replied.  "  I  came  here  long  ago  and  explored  it  myself." 

"  I'd  like  to  come  here  sketching  sometime.  See  how 
the  branches  meet  overhead.  The  odors  from  the  bluffside 
are  like  the  odors  of  the  woodland  back  in  the  Clover  valley 
in  Ohio.  I  remember  them  yet,  although  I  was  so  little 
when  I  left  there,"  Leigh  said,  turning  to  Thaine. 

He  shifted  the  reins,  and  throwing  his  hat  in  the  buggy 
before  him  he  pushed  back  the  hair  from  his  forehead. 

"Leigh,  will  you  let  me  take  you  home?  I  didn't  ask 
Jo  after  all.  Todd  wouldn't  wait  long  enough  for  me  to 


The  Purple  Notches 


do  that,  as  I  knew  well  enough  he  wouldn't.  Don't  be 
mad  at  me.  Please  don't,"  he  pleaded. 

"Why,  I'm  glad  if  you  really  want  me  to  go  with  you, 
but  you  shouldn't  have  staid  away  this  morning." 

"I  did  it  on  purpose.  I  knew  Todd  wouldn't  let  the 
chance  slip  —  nor  Jo  neither,  if  I  let  him  have  it." 

"You  let  him  have  it  merely  because  you  didn't  want 
the  chance  today.  Your  kindness  will  be  your  undoing 
some  day,"  Leigh  said  with  a  smile  that  took  off  the  edge 
of  sarcasm. 

Thaine  said  nothing  in  response,  and  they  climbed  slowly 
to  the  top  of  the  bluff  and  stood  at  last  on  the  crest  of 
the  middle  headland. 

Below  them  lay  "The  Cottonwoods"  and  the  winding 
stream  whose  course,  marked  by  the  dark  green  line  of 
shrubbery,  stretched  away  toward  Grass  River  far  to  the 
southeast.  To  the  westward  a  wonderful  vista  of  level 
prairie  spread  endlessly,  wherein  no  line  of  shrubbery 
marked  a  watercourse  nor  tree  rose  up  to  break  the  circle 
of  the  horizon.  Over  all  this  vast  plain  the  three  head 
lands  stood  as  sentinels.  In  the  west  the  sunlight  had 
pierced  a  heavy  cloudbank  and  was  pouring  through  the 
rift  in  one  broad  sheet  of  gold  mist  from  sky  to  earth. 
Purple  and  silver  and  burnt  umber,  with  green  and  gray 
and  richest  orange,  blended  all  in  the  tones  of  the  land 
scape,  overhung  now  by  a  storm-girdled  sky. 

"  This  prairie  belongs  mostly  to  John  Jacobs  now  and  it 
is  just  as  it  was  when  the  Indians  called  it  the  Grand 
Prairie  and  the  old  Pawnees  came  down  here  every  summer 
to  hunt  buffalo.  Some  day,  soon,  there  will  be  a  sea  of 
wheat  flowing  over  all  that  level  plain,"  Thaine  said. 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"  And  up  here  a  home  with  nothing  to  cut  off  a  frag 
ment  of  the  whole  horizon.  Think  of  seeing  every  sunrise 
and  every  sunset  from  a  place  like  this,"  Leigh  said,  her 
face  aglow  with  an  artist's  love  of  beauty.  "  It's  farther 
to  China  than  I  used  to  think  wThen  I  dreamed  of  a  purple 
velvet  house  decorated  with  gold  knobs  beyond  these  three 
headlands." 

"I  always  did  want  to  live  on  the  Purple  Notches," 
Thaine  said  reminiscently  .  "I'm  glad  we  came  up  here  today." 

The  sound  of  singing  came  faintly  up  from  the  valley 
far  away. 

"  The  crowd  is  mobilized.  See  the  wagons  crawling  out 
of  the  grove  and  the  civilians  in  citizens'  clothes  following 
in  carriages,"  Thaine  said  as  he  watched  the  picnic  party 
pushing  out  toward  the  eastward.  "  I'm  so  glad  we  aren't 
with  them." 

Leigh  sat  leaning  forward,  looking  at  the  majestic  dis 
tances  lost  in  purple  haze,  overshadowed  by  purple  clouds 
with  gold-broidered  edges  of  sunlight. 

"The  world  is  all  ours  for  once.  We  see  all  there  is 
of  it  and  yet  we  are  alone  in  it  up  here  on  the  purple 
notches  I  used  to  dream  about,"  she  said  softly. 

Thaine  leaned  back  in  his  buggy  and  looked  at  Leigh 
with  the  same  impenetrable  expression  on  his  countenance 
that  was  always  there  wrhen  she  was  present. 

"Leigh,"  he  said  at  last,  "if  you  didn't  have  Uncle 
Jim  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  the  girl  answered. 

"I  never  knew  one  of  the  fellows  who  didn't  like  you, 
but  you,  you  don't  seem  to  care  for  any  of  them.  Don't 
they  suit  you?"  Thaine  asked. 


The  Purple  Notches  285 

"Yes,  but  I  can't  think  much  about  them." 

"Why  not?" 

Leigh  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Thaine,  you  have  always  been  a  good  friend  to  me. 
Some  day  I'll  tell  you  why." 

"  Tell  me  now,"  Thaine  insisted  gently. 

Leigh  looked  up,  a  mist  of  tears  in  her  violet  eyes. 

"Oh,  little  girl,  forgive  me.  It's  because  —  because," 
Thaine  hesitated.  "  Because  deep  down  where  nobody  ever 
knew  I've  loved  you  always,  Leigh.  I  didn't  know  how 
much  until  the  night  of  my  party  and  the  day  we  were  at 
Wykerton." 

"  Thaine !  Thaine !  you  mustn't  say  such  things,"  Leigh 
cried,  gripping  her  hands  together.  "  You  mustn't !  You 
mustn't ! " 

"But  I  must,  and  I  will,"  Thaine  declared. 

"Then  I  won't  listen  to  you.  You  are  a  flirt.  Not 
satisfied  with  making  one  girl  love  you,  you  want  to  make 
all  of  us  care  for  you." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  I  thought  I  loved  Jo.  Then 
I  knew  I  didn't,  and  I  felt  in  honor  bound  to  keep  her 
from  finding  it  out.  But  that's  a  dead  failure  of  a  business. 
You  can't  play  that  game  and  win.  I've  learned  a  good 
many  things  this  summer,  and  one  of  them  is  that  Todd 
Stewart  is  the  only  one  who  really  and  truly  loves  Jo,  and 
she  cares  as  much  for  him  as  she  does  for  anybody." 

"How  do  you  know?"  Leigh  asked  as  she  leaned  back 
now  and  faced  Thaine. 

"  Because  she  doesn't  know  herself  yet.  She's  too  spoiled 
by  the  indulgence  of  everybody  and  too  pretty.  She  wants 
attention.  But  I  found  finally,  maybe  mother  helped  me 


286  Winning  the  Wilderness 

a  little,  that  if  she  has  Todd's  attention  she's  satisfied. 
More,  she's  comfortable.  She  was  always  on  thorns  with 
me.  Isn't  that  enough  about  Jo?" 

"Well?"  Leigh  queried. 

"  No,  nothing  is  well  yet.  Leigh,  let  me  go  away  to  the 
University.  Let  me  make  a  name  for  myself,  a  world-wide 
name,  maybe,  let  me  fight  on  my  frontier  line  and  then 
come  back  and  lift  the  burden  you  carry  now.  I  want  to 
do  big  things  somewhere  away  from  the  Kansas  prairies, 
away  from  the  grind  of  the  farm  and  country  life.  Oh, 
Leigh,  you  are  the  only  girl  I  ever  can  really  love." 

He  leaned  forwrard  and  took  her  hands  in  his  own,  his 
dark  eyes,  beautiful  with  the  light  of  love,  looking  down 
into  hers,  his  face  aglow  with  the  ambition  of  undisciplined 
youth. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  he  pleaded. 

"  It  is  only  sympathy  you  offer,  Thaine,  and  I  don't 
want  sympathy.  You  said  that  game  wouldn't  win  with 
Jo.  Neither  would  it  with  me.  I  am  happy  in  my  work. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  it.  The  harder  part  is  to  get  enough 
money  to  buy  seed  and  pay  interest,  and  Uncle  Jim  and 
I  will  earn  that.  I  tell  you  the  mortgage  must  be  lifted  by 
alfalfa  roots  just  as  Coburn's  book  says  it  will  be." 

There  was  a  defiant  little  curve  on  her  red  lips  and  the 
brave  hopefulness  of  her  face  was  inspiring. 

"Go  and  do  your  work,  Thaine.  Fight  your  battles, 
push  back  your  frontier  line,  win  your  wilderness,  and 
make  a  world-wide  name  for  yourself.  But  when  all  is 
done  don't  forget  that  the  fight  your  father  and  mother 
made  here,  and  are  making  today,  is  honorable,  wonderful ; 
and  that  the  winning  of  a  Kansas  farm,  the  kingdom  of 


The  Purple  Notches  287 

golden  wheat,  bordered  round  by  golden  sunflowers,  is  a 
real  kingdom.  Its  sinews  of  strength  uphold  the  nation." 

"Why,  you  eloquent  little  Jayhawker!"  Thaine  ex 
claimed.  "You  should  have  been  an  orator  on  the  side, 
not  an  artist.  But  all  this  only  makes  me  care  the  more. 
I'm  proud  of  you.  I'd  want  you  for  my  chum  if  you 
were  a  boy.  I  want  you  for  my  friend,  but  down  under  all 
this  I  want  you  for  my  girl  now,  and  afterwhile,  Leigh,  I 
want  you  for  my  own,  all  mine.  Don't  you  care  for  me? 
Couldn't  you  learn  to  care,  Leigh?  Couldn't  you  go  with 
me  to  a  broader  life  somewhere  out  in  the  real  big  world? 
Couldn't  we  come  some  time  to  the  Purple  Notches  and 
build  a  home  for  just  our  summer  days,  because  we  have 
seen  these  headlands  all  our  lives  ?  " 

Leigh's  head  was  bowed,  and  the  pink  blooms  left  her 
cheeks. 

"  Thaine,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice  that  thrilled  him  with 
its  sweetness,  "I  do  care.  I  have  always  cared  so  much 
that  I  have  hoped  this  moment  might  never  come." 

Thaine  caught  her  arm  eagerly. 

"  No !  no  !  We  can  never,  never  be  anything  but  friends, 
and  if  you  care  more  than  that  for  me  now,  if  you  really 
love  me  — "  the  voice  was  very  soft  — "  don't  ask  me 
why.  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  I  know  we  can  never  be  any 
thing  more  than  friends,  never,  never." 

The  sorrow  on  her  white  face,  the  pathos  of  the  great 
violet  eyes,  the  firm  outline  of  the  red  lips  told  Thaine 
Aydelot  that  words  were  hopeless.  He  had  known  her 
every  mood  from  childhood.  She  never  dallied  nor  hesi 
tated.  The  grief  of  her  answer  went  too  deep  for  words 
to  argue  against.  And  withal  Thaine  Aydelot  was  very 


288  Winning  the  Wilderness 

proud  and  unaccustomed  to  being  denied  what  he  chose 
to  want  very  much. 

"Leigh,  will  you  do  two  things  for  me?"  he  asked  at 
length.  The  sad,  quiet  tone  was  unlike  Thaine  Aydelot. 

"  If  I  can,"  Leigh  answered. 

"  First,  will  you  promise  me  that  if  you  want  me  you 
will  send  for  me.  If  you  ever  find  —  oh,  Leigh,  ever  is 
such  a  long  word.  If  you  ever  think  you  can  care  enough 
for  me  to  let  me  come  back  to  you,  you  will  let  me  know." 

"When  I  send  you  the  little  sunflower  letter  Prince 
Quippi  never  answered  you  may  come  back,"  Leigh  said 
lightly,  but  the  tears  were  too  near  for  the  promise  to  seem 
trivial.  "What  is  the  other  thing?" 

"I  want  you  just  once  to  let  me  kiss  you,  Leigh.  It's 
our  good-by  kiss  forever.  Hereafter  we  are  only  friends, 
old  chums,  you  know.  Will  you  let  me  be  your  lover  for 
one  minute  up  here  on  the  Purple  Notches,  wrhere  the 
whole  world  lies  around  us  and  nobody  knows  our  secret? 
Please,  Leigh.  Then  I'll  go  away  and  be  a  man  somewhere 
in  the  big  world  that's  always  needing  men." 

Leigh  leaned  toward  him,  and  he  held  her  close  as  he 
kissed  her  red  lips.  In  all  the  stormy  days  that  followed 
the  memory  of  that  moment  was  with  him.  A  moment  when 
love,  in  all  its  purity  and  joy,  knew  its  first  realization. 

The  next  day  Leigh  Shirley  made  butter  all  the  morning, 
and  in  the  afternoon  she  tried  to  retouch  her  sketch  of 
sunflowers  as  she  had  seen  the  shadows  dull  the  brightness 
of  their  petals  in  the  valley  below  the  Purple  Notches. 

The  same  day  Thaine  Aydelot  left  home  for  the  winter, 
taking  the  memory  of  the  most  sacred  moment  of  his  life 
with  him  out  into  the  big  world  that  is  always  needing  men. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

REMEMBERING  THE  Maine 

The  Twentieth  Kansas  was  fortunate  in  oppor 
tunity,  and  heroic  in  action,  and  has  won  a  perma 
nent  place  in  the  hearts  of  a  grateful  people. 

— WILLIAM  MCKINLEY. 

THE  sunny  plains  of  Kansas  were  fair  and  full  of 
growing  in  the  spring  of  1898.  The  alfalfa  creeping 
out  against  the  weeds  of  the  old  Cloverdale  Ranch  was 
green  under  the  April  sunshine.  The  breezes  sweeping 
down  the  Grass  River  Valley  carried  a  vigor  in  their  caress. 
The  Aydelot  grove,  just  budding  into  leaf,  was  full  of 
wild  birds'  song.  All  the  sights  and  sounds  and  odors  of 
springtime  made  the  April  day  entrancing  on  the  Kansas 
prairies. 

Leigh  Shirley  had  risen  at  dawn  and  come  up  to  the 
grove  in  the  early  morning.  She  tethered  her  pony  to 
graze  by  the  roadside,  and  with  her  drawing  board  on  a 
slender  easel  she  stood  on  the  driveway  across  the  lakelet, 
busy  for  awhile  with  her  paints  and  pencil.  Then  the 
sweetness  of  the  morning  air,  the  gurgling  waters  at  the 
lake's  outlet,  once  the  little  draw  choked  with  wild  plum 
bushes,  and  the  trills  of  music  from  the  shimmering  boughs 
above  her  head,  all  combined  to  make  dreaming  pleasant. 
She  dropped  her  brushes  and  stood  looking  at  the  lake  and 
the  bit  of  open  woodland,  and  through  it  to  the  wide  level 
fields  beyond,  with  the  river  gleaming  here  and  there  under 
the  touch  of  the  morning  light. 

289 


290  Winning  the  Wilderness 

She  recalled  in  contrast  the  silver  and  sable  tones  of  the 
May  night  when  she  and  Thaine  sat  on  the  driveway  and 
saw  the  creamy  water  lilies  open  their  hearts  to  the  wooing 
moonlight  and  the  caressing  shadows.  It  was  a  fairyland 
here  that  night.  It  was  plain  daylight  now,  beautiful,  but 
real.  Life  seemed  a  dream  that  night.  It  was  very  real 
this  April  morning.  The  young  artist  involuntarily  drew 
a  deep  breath  that  was  half  a  sigh  and  stooped  to  pick  up 
her  fallen  brushes.  But  she  dropped  them  again  with  a 
glad  cry.  Far  across  the  lake,  in  the  leaf-checkered  sun 
shine,  Thaine  Aydelot  stood  smiling  at  her. 

"  Shall  I  stay  here  and  spoil  your  landscape  or  come 
around  and  shake  hands?"  he  called  across  to  her. 

"  Oh,  come  over  here  and  tell  me  how  you  happened," 
Leigh  cried  eagerly. 

Grass  River  people  blamed  the  two  years  of  the  Univer 
sity  life  for  breaking  Thaine  Aydelot's  interest  in  Jo 
Bennington.  Not  that  Jo  lacked  for  admirers  without  him. 
Life  had  been  made  so  pleasant  for  her  that  she  had  not 
gone  away  to  any  school,  even  after  her  father's  election 
to  office.  And  down  at  the  University  the  pretty  girls 
considered  Thaine  perfectly  heartless,  for  now  in  his  second 
year  they  were  still  baffled  by  his  general  admiration  and 
undivided  indifference  toward  all  of  them.  His  eager  face 
as  he  came  striding  up  the  driveway  to  meet  Leigh  Shirley 
would  have  been  a  revelation  to  them. 

"  I  '  happened '  last  night,  too  late  to  wake  up  the  dog," 
Thaine  exclaimed.  "  I  happened  to  run  against  Dr.  Carey, 
who  had  a  hurry-up  call  down  this  way,  and  he  happened 
to  drop  me  at  the  Sunflower  Inn.  He's  coming  by  for 
breakfast  at  my  urgent  demand.  This  country  night  prac- 


Remembering  the  Maine  291 

tice  is  enough  to  kill  a  doctor.  His  hair  is  whiter  than 
ever,  young  as  he  is.  He  said  he  is  going  to  take  a  trip 
out  West  and  have  a  vacation  right  soon.  I  told  him  all 
my  plans.  You  can  tell  him  anything,  you  know.  And, 
besides,  I'm  hoping  he  will  beat  me  to  the  house  this  morn 
ing  and  will  tell  the  folks  I'm  here." 

"Doesn't  your  mother  know  you  are  here?"  Leigh 
asked. 

"Not  yet.  I  wanted  to  come  down  early  and  tell  the 
lake  goodby.  I  have  to  leave  again  in  a  few  hours." 

The  old  impenetrable  expression  had  dropped  over  his 
face  with  the  words.  And  nobody  knows  why  the  sunshine 
grew  dull  and  the  birds'  songs  dropped  to  busy  twittering 
about  unimportant  things. 

"Do  you  always  tell  it  goodby?"  Leigh  asked,  because 
she  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say. 

"  Not  always,  but  this  time  it's  different.  I'm  so  glad  I 
found  you.  I  should  have  gone  down  to  Cloverdale,  of 
course,  if  you  hadn't  been  here,  but  this  saves  time." 

A  pink  wave  swept  Leigh's  cheek,  but  she  smiled  a 
pleasant  recognition  of  his  thoughtfulness. 

"  I've  come  home  to  say  goodby  because  I'm  going  to 
enlist  in  the  first  Kansas  regiment  that  goes  to  Cuba  to 
fight  the  Spaniards.  And  I  must  hurry  back  to  Lawrence." 

"Oh,  Thaine!     What  do  you  mean?" 

Leigh's  face  was  very  white. 

"Be  careful!" 

Thaine  caught  her  arm  in  time  to  save  the  light  easel 
from  being  thrown  over. 

"Don't  look  at  me  that  way,  Leigh.  Don't  you  know 
that  President  McKinley  has  declared  war  and  has  called 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


for  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  volunteers  ?  Four 
or  five  thousand  from  old  Kansas.  Do  you  reckon  we 
Jayhawkers  will  wait  till  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
have  enlisted  and  trail  in  on  the  last  five  thousand?  It 
would  be  against  all  traditions  of  the  rude  forefathers  of 
the  Sunflower  State." 

"Has  war  really  been  declared?  We  haven't  had  the 
papers  for  nearly  a  week.  Everybody  is  so  busy  with  farm 
work  right  now." 

Leigh  stood  looking  anxiously  at  Thaine. 

"  Declared  !  The  first  gun  has  been  fired.  The  call  for 
volunteers  has  come  from  Washington,  and  the  Governor 
has  said  he  will  make  Fred  Funston  Colonel  of  the  first 
regiment  of  Kansas  volunteers,  and  he  sent  out  his  appeal 
for  loyal  Kansas  men  to  offer  themselves.  I  tell  you  again, 
Leigh  Shirley,  I'll  not  be  the  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
thousandth  man  in  the  line.  I'm  going  to  be  right  close 
up  to  little  Fred  Funston,  our  Kansas  boy,  who  is  to  be  our 
Colonel.  I  have  a  notion  that  University  students  will 
make  the  right  kind  of  soldiers.  There  will  be  plenty  of 
ignorance  and  disloyalty  and  drafting  into  line  on  the 
Spanish  side.  America  must  send  an  intelligent  private  if 
the  war  is  to  be  fought  out  quickly.  I'm  that  intelligent 
gentleman." 

"  But  why  must  we  fight  at  all,  Thaine  ?  Spain  has 
her  islands  in  every  sea.  We  are  almost  an  inland  country. 
Spain  is  a  naval  power.  Who  ever  heard  of  the  United 
States  being  a  naval  power?  I  don't  understand  what  is 
back  of  all  this  fuss."  Leigh  asked  the  questions  eagerly. 

"We  fight  because  we  remember  the  Maine,"  Thaine  said 
a  little  boastfully.  "  We  are  keeping  in  mind  the  two  hun- 


Remembering  the  Maine  293 

dred  and  sixty-six  American  sailors  who  perished  when  our 
good  ship  was  sunk  in  the  harbor  at  Havana  last  February. 
If  we  aren't  a  naval  power  now  we  may  develop  some 
sinews  of  strength  before  we  are  through.  Your  Uncle 
Sam  is  a  nervy  citizen,  and  it  was  a  sorry  day  for  proud 
old  Spain  when  she  lighted  the  fuse  to  blow  up  our  good 
warship.  It  was  a  fool's  trick  that  we'll  make  Spain  pay 
dearly  for  yet." 

"  So  it's  just  for  revenge,  then,  for  the  Maine  horror. 
Thaine,  think  how  many  times  worse  than  that  this  war 
might  be.  Isn't  there  any  way  to  punish  Spain  except  by 
sending  more  Americans  to  be  killed  by  her  fuses  and  her 
guns  ?  "  Leigh  insisted. 

"There  is  more  than  the  Maine  affair,"  Thaine  assured 
her.  "You  know,  just  off  our  coast,  almost  in  sight  of 
our  guns,  Spain  has  held  Cuba  for  all  these  centuries  in 
a  bondage  of  degradation  and  ignorance  and  cruel  oppres 
sion.  You  know  there  has  been  an  awful  warfare  going 
on  there  for  three  years  between  the  Spanish  government 
and  the  rebels  against  it.  And  that  for  a  year  and  a  half 
the  atrocities  of  Weyler,  the  Captain  General  of  the  Span 
ish  forces,  make  an  unprintable  record.  The  United  States 
has  declared  war,  not  to  retaliate  for  the  loss  of  the 
Maine  alone,  awful  as  it  was,  but  to  right  wrongs  too  long 
neglected,  to  put  a  twentieth  century  civilization  instead  of 
a  sixteenth  century  barbarity  in  Cuba." 

Thaine  was  reciting  his  lesson  glibly,  but  Leigh  broke  in. 

"But  why  must  you  go?    You,  an  only  child?" 

She  had  never  seen  a  soldier.  Pier  knowledge  of  warfare 
had  been  given  her  by  the  stories  Jim  Shirley  and  Dr. 
Carey  had  told  to  her  in  her  childhood. 


294  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"It's  really  not  my  fault  that  I'm  an  only  child.  It's 
an  inheritance.  My  father  was  an  only  child,  too.  He 
went  to  war  at  the  mature  age  of  fifteen.  I'll  be  twenty-one 
betimes."  Thaine  stood  up  with  military  stiffness. 

"Your  father  fought  to  save  his  country.  You  just 
want  gold  lace  and  a  lark.  War  is  no  frolic,  Thaine 
Aydelot,"  Leigh  insisted. 

"I'm  not  counting  on  a  frolic,  Miss  Shirley,  and  I  don't 
want  any  gold  lace  till  I  have  earned  it,"  Thaine  declared 
proudly. 

"  Then  why  do  you  go  ?  "  Leigh  queried. 

"I  go  in  the  name  of  patriotism.  Wars  don't  just 
happen.  At  least,  that  is  what  the  professor  at  the  Uni 
versity  tells  us.  Back  of  this  Spanish  fuss  is  a  bigger 
turn  waiting  than  has  been  foretold.  Watch  and  see  if  I 
am  not  a  prophet.  This  is  a  war  to  right  human  wrongs. 
That's  why  we  are  going  into  it." 

"  But  your  father  wants  you  here.  The  Sunflower 
Ranch  is  waiting  for  you,"  Leigh  urged. 

"  His  father  wanted  him  to  stay  in  Ohio,  so  our  family 
history  runs.  But  Mr.  Asher  heard  the  calling  of  the 
prairies.  His  wilderness  lay  on  the  Kansas  plains,  and  he 
came  out  and  drove  back  the  frontier  line  and  pretty  near 
won  it.  At  least,  he's  got  a  wheat  crop  in  this  year  that 
looks  some  like  success." 

Thaine  smiled,  but  Leigh's  face  was  grave. 

"Leighlie,  my  frontier  is  where  the  Spanish  yoke 
hangs  heavy  on  the  necks  of  slaves.  I  must  go  and  win  it. 
I  must  drive  back  my  frontier  line  wrhere  I  find  it,  not  where 
my  grandfather  found  it.  I  must  do  a  man's  part  in  the 
world's  work." 


Remembering  the  Maine  295 

His  voice  was  full  of  earnestness  and  his  dark  eyes  were 
glowing  with  the  fire  of  inspiration.  By  the  patriotism 
and  enthusiasm  of  the  youth  of  twenty-one  has  victory 
come  to  many  a  battlefield. 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away  to  war,"  Leigh 
pleaded. 

"You  don't  want  me  here." 

Thaine  let  his  hand  rest  gently  on  hers  for  a  moment 
as  it  lay  on  top  of  the  easel;  then  hastily  withdrew  it. 

"Has  your  alfalfa  struck  root  deep  enough  to  begin 
to  pull  up  that  mortgage  yet?"  he  inquired,  as  if  to  drop 
the  unpleasant  subject. 

"  Not  yet,"  Leigh  answered.  "  We  make  every  acre  help 
to  seed  more  acres.  It's  an  uphill  pull.  It's  my  war  with 
Spain,  you  know.  But  I'm  doing  something  with  these 
little  daubs  of  mine.  I  have  sold  a  few  pieces.  The  price 
wasn't  large,  but  it  was  something  to  put  against  a  hungry 
interest  account.  Some  day  I  want  to  paint  — "  she  hes 
itated. 

"What?"  Thaine  asked. 

Leigh  was  bending  over  her  brushes  and  paints,  and  did 
not  look  up  as  she  said  with  an  effort  at  indifference : 

"Oh,  the  Purple  Notches.  It  is  so  beautiful  over 
there." 

Thaine  bit  his  lips  to  hold  back  the  words,  and  Leigh 
went  on: 

"  Dr.  Carey  says  Uncle  Jim  couldn't  have  held  out  long 
at  general  farming.  But  the  Coburn  book  was  right.  The 
alfalfa  is  the  silent  subsoiler,  and  when  the  whole  quarter 
is  seeded  we'll  pull  that  mortgage  up  by  the  roots,  all 

right." 


296  Winning  the  Wilderness 

She  looked  up  with  shining  eyes,  and  Thaine  took  both 
of  her  hands  in  his,  saying: 

"  I  must  tell  you  goodby  now.  Mother  will  know  I  am 
here  and  will  be  dragging  the  lake  for  me.  This  isn't  like 
other  goodbys.  Of  course,  I  may  come  back  a  Brigadier 
General  and  make  you  very  proud  of  me,  or  I  might  not 
come  at  all,  but  I  won't  say  that.  Oh,  Leigh,  Leigh,  may 
I  tell  you  once  more  how  dear  you  are  to  me?  Will  you 
promise  again  to  send  me  the  same  message  you  sent  to 
Prince  Quippi  when  you  want  me  to  come  back?" 

"I  will,"  Leigh  replied  in  a  low  voice,  and  for  that 
moment  the  grove  became  for  them  a  holy  sanctuary, 
wherein  their  words  were  sacred  vows. 

When  Thaine  reached  home  again,  Dr.  Carey  was  just 
leaving,  and  the  way  was  prepared  for  the  purpose  of  his 
own  coming,  as  he  had  hoped  it  would  be. 

"  I've  a  call  to  make  across  the  river.  I'll  be  back  in 
time  to  take  you  up  to  catch  the  train.  There's  a  feast 
of  a  breakfast  waiting  in  there  for  you.  I  know,  for  I 
had  my  share  of  it.  Goodby  for  an  hour  or  two." 

The  doctor  waved  his  hand  to  Thaine  and  drove  away. 

"  So  the  wanderlust  and  spirit  of  adventure  in  the 
Aydelot  blood  got  you  after  all,"  Asher  Aydelot  said  as 
he  looked  across  the  breakfast  table  at  his  son.  "  It  seems 
such  a  little  while  ago  that  I  was  a  boy  in  Ohio,  a  foolish 
fifteen-year-old,  crazy  to  see  and  be  into  what  I've  wished 
so  often  since  that  I  could  forget." 

"But  you  don't  object,  Father?"  Thaine  asked  eagerly. 

Asher  did  not  reply  at  once.  A  rush  of  boyhood  mem 
ories  flooded  his  mind,  and  as  he  looked  at  Virginia  he 
recalled  how  his  mother  had  looked  at  him  on  the  day  he 


Remembering  the  Maine  297 

left  home  to  join  the  Third  Ohio  regiment  nearly  forty 
years  ago.  And  then  he  remembered  the  moonlit  night  and 
his  mother's  blessing  when  he  told  of  his  longing  for  the 
open  West,  where  opportunity  hunts  the  man. 

"  No,  Thaine,"  he  answered  gently  at  last.  "  All  I  ask 
is  that  you  try  to  foresee  what  is  coming  in  hardship  and 
responsibility.  Young  men  go  to  war  for  adventure  mostly. 
The  army  life  may  make  a  hero  of  you,  not  by  brevet  nor 
always  by  official  record,  but  a  hero  nevertheless  in  bravery 
where  courage  is  needed,  and  in  a  sense  of  duty  done.  Or 
it  can  make  a  low-grade  scoundrel  of  you  almost  before 
you  know  it,  if  you  do  not  put  yourself  on  guard  duty  over 
yourself  twenty-four  hours  out  of  every  twenty-four.  Wai- 
means  real  hardship.  It  is  in  everything  the  opposite  of 
peace.  And  this  war  foreshadows  big  events.  It  may  lead 
you  to  Cuba  or  to  the  Orient.  Our  Asiatic  squadron  is 
ordered  from  Hong  Kong.  Dr.  Carey  tells  me  it  is  going 
to  meet  the  Spanish  navy  in  the  Philippines.  I  thought 
I  fixed  the  West  when  I  came  here  as  a  scout  and  later  a 
settler,  and  drove  the  frontier  back  with  my  rifle  and  my 
hoe.  Is  it  possible  your  frontier  is  further  westward  still? 
Even  across  the  Pacific  Ocean,  where  another  kind  of 
wilderness  lies?" 

Into  Asher's  clear  gray  eyes,  that  for  all  the  years  had 
held  the  vision  of  the  wide,  pathless  prairies  redeemed  to 
fruitfulness,  there  was  a  vision  now  of  the  big  things  with 
which  the  twentieth  century  must  cope.  The  work  of  a 
generation  younger  than  his  own. 

"Don't  forget  two  things,  Thaine,  when  you  are  fairly 
started  in  this  campaign.  First,  that  wars  do  not  last 
forever.  They  jar  the  frontier  line  back  by  leaps,  but 


298  Winning  the  Wilderness 

after  war  is  over  the  good  old  prairie  soil  is  waiting  still 
for  you  —  acres  and  acres  yet  unredeemed.  And  secondly, 
while  you  are  a  soldier  don't  waste  energy  with  memories. 
Fight  when  you  wear  a  uniform,  and  dream  and  remember 
when  the  guns  are  cold.  You  have  my  blessing,  Thaine, 
only  remember  the  blessing  of  Moses  to  Asher  of  old,  'As 
your  day  so  will  your  strength  be.'  But  you  must  have 
your  mother's  approval  too." 

Thaine  looked  lovingly  at  his  mother,  and  the  picture 
of  her  fine  face  lighted  by  eyes  full  of  mother  love  staid 
with  him  through  all  the  months  that  followed.  And  all 
the  old  family  pride  of  the  Thaines  of  Virginia,  all  the  old 
sense  of  control  and  daring  was  in  her  tone  as  she  answered : 

"You  have  come  to  a  man's  estate.  You  must  choose 
for  yourself.  But  big  as  the  world  is,  it  is  too  little  for 
mothers  to  be  lost  in.  You  cannot  find  a  frontier  so  far 
that  a  mother's  love  has  not  outrun  you  to  it.  Go  out  and 
win." 

"You  are  a  Trojan,  mother.  I  hope  I'll  always  be 
worthy  of  your  love,  wherever  I  am,"  her  son  murmured. 

Two  hours  later,  when  Dr.  Carey  stopped  for  Thaine, 
Virginia  Aydelot  came  down  to  his  buggy.  Her  face  was 
very  white  and  her  eyes  were  shining  with  heroic  resolve 
to  be  brave  to  the  last. 

"Horace,  you  may  be  glad  you  have  no  children,"  she 
said,  as  they  waited  for  Thaine  and  his  father  to  come  out. 

"My  life  has  had  many  opportunities  for  service  that 
must  make  up  for  the  lack  of  other  blessings.  It  may 
have  further  opportunity  soon.  May  I  ask  a  favor  of 
you?" 

Virginia  was  not  to  blame  that  her  heart  was  too  full  to 


Remembering  the  Maine  299 

catch  the  undertone  of  sorrow  in  Horace  Carey's  words  as 
she  replied  graciously: 

"Anything  that  I  can  grant." 

"Life  is  rather  uncertain  —  even  with  a  good  doctor  in 
the  community  —  "  Dr.  Carey's  smile  was  always  winning. 
"  I  have  hoarded  less  than  I  should  have  done  if  there  had 
been  a  Carey  to  follow  me.  There  will  be  nobody  but  Bo 
Peep  to  miss  me,  especially  after  awhile.  I  want  you  to 
give  him  a  home  if  he  ever  needs  one.  He  has  some  earn 
ings  to  keep  him  from  want.  But  you  and  I  are  the  only 
Virginians  in  the  valley.  Promise  me ! " 

"  Of  course  I  will,  always,  Horace.     Be  sure  of  that." 

"  Thank  you,  Virginia.  I  am  planning  to  start  to 
California  in  a  few  days.  I  may  be  gone  for  several 
months.  I'll  tell  you  goodby  now,  for  I  may  not  be  down 
this  way  again  before  I  go." 

Virginia  remembered  afterward  the  doctor's  strong  hand 
clasp  and  the  steady  gaze  of  his  dark  eyes  and  the  pathos 
of  his  voice  as  he  bade  her  goodby.  But  she  did  not  note 
these  then,  for  at  that  moment  Thaine  came  down  the  walk 
with  his  father,  and  in  the  sorrow  of  parting  with  her  son 
she  had  no  mind  for  other  things. 

Dreary  rains  filled  up  the  first  days  of  May.  At  Camp 
Leedy,  where  the  Kansas  volunteers  mobilized  on  the  old 
Fair  Ground  on  the  outskirts  of  Topeka,  Thaine  Aydelot 
sat  under  the  shelter  of  his  tent  watching  the  water  pouring 
down  the  canvas  walls  of  other  tents  and  overflowing  the 
deep  ruts  that  cut  the  grassy  sod  with  long  muddy  gashes. 
Camp  Leedy  was  made  up  mostly  of  muddy  gashes  crossed 
by  streams  of  semi-liquid  mud  supposed  to  be  roads. 
Thaine  sat  on  a  pile  of  sodden  straw.  His  clothing  was 


300  Winning  the  Wilderness 

muddy,  his  feet  were  wet,  and  the  chill  of  the  cold  rain 
made  him  shiver. 

"  Noble  warfare,  this ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Asher 
Aydelot  knew  his  bearing  when  he  told  me  that  war  was 
no  ways  like  peace.  I  wonder  what's  going  on  right  now 
down  at  the  Sunflower  Ranch.  The  rain  ought  to  fill  that 
old  spillway  draw  from  the  lake  down  in  the  woods.  It's 
nearly  time  for  the  water  lilies  to  bloom,  too." 

The  memory  of  the  May  night  two  years  before  with 
Leigh  Shirley,  all  pink  and  white  and  sweet  and  modest, 
came  surging  across  his  mind  as  a  heavy  dash  of  rain 
deluged  the  tent  walls  about  him. 

"Look  here,  Private  Thaine  Aydelot,  Twentieth  Kansas 
Volunteers,  if  you  are  going  to  be  a  soldier  stop  that 
memory  business  right  here,  except  to  remember  what  Pri 
vate  Asher  Aydelot,  of  the  Third  Ohio  Infantry,  told  you 
about  guard  duty  twenty-six  hours  out  of  twenty-four. 
Heigh  ho!" 

Thaine  ended  with  a  sigh,  then  he  shut  his  teeth  grimly 
and  stared  at  the  unceasing  downpour  with  unseeing  eyes. 

A  noisy  demonstration  in  the  camp  roused  him,  and  in 
a  minute  more  young  Todd  Stewart  lay  stretched  at  full 
length  in  the  mud  before  his  tent. 

"Welcome  to  our  city,  whose  beauties  have  overcome 
others  also,"  Thaine  said,  as  he  helped  Todd  to  rise  from 
the  mud. 

"Well,  you  look  good  to  me,  whether  I  do  to  you  or 
not,"  Todd  declared,  as  he  scraped  at  the  muddy  plaster  on 
his  clothing. 

"Enter!"  Thaine  exclaimed  dramatically,  holding  back 
the  tent  flaps.  "I  hope  you  are  not  wounded." 


Remembering  the  Maine  301 

Todd  limped  inside  and  sat  down  on  the  wet  straw. 

"No,  my  company  just  got  to  camp.  I  was  so  crazy 
to  see  anybody  from  the  short  grass  country  that  I  made 
a  slide  your  way  too  swiftly.  I  don't  mind  these  clothes, 
for  I'll  be  getting  my  soldier's  togs  in  a  minute  anyhow, 
but  I  did  twist  that  ankle  in  my  zeal.  Where's  your 
uniform  ?  "  Todd  asked,  staring  at  Thaine's  clothes. 

"With  yours,  still.  Make  a  minute  of  it  when  you 
get  it,  won't  you?"  Thaine  replied.  "Our  common  Uncle 
wants  soldiers.  He  has  no  time  to  give  to  their  clothes. 
A  ragged  shirt  or  naked  breast  will  stop  a  Spanish  bullet 
as  well  as  a  khaki  suit." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you  haven't  your  soldier  uniform 
yet?"  Todd  broke  in. 

"  A  few  of  us  have,  but  most  of  us  haven't.  They  cost 
something,"  Thaine  said  with  a  shiver,  for  the  May  after 
noon  was  chilly. 

"  Then  I'll  not  stay  here  and  risk  my  precious  life  for 
a  government  so  darned  little  and  stingy." 

Todd  sprang  up  with  the  words,  but  fell  down  again, 
clasping  his  ankle. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will.  You've  enlisted  already,  and  you 
have  a  bad  ankle  already.  Let  me  see  it." 

Thaine  examined  the  sprained  limb  carefully.  He  had 
something  of  his  father's  ability  for  such  things  combined 
with  his  mother's  gentle  touch. 

"Let  me  bind  it  up  a  little  while  you  tell  me  about 
Grass  River.  Then  hie  thee  to  a  hospital,"  he  said. 

"There's  nothing  new,  except  that  Dr.  Carey  has  gone 
West  for  a  vacation  and  John  Jacobs  is  raising  cain  over 
at  Wykerton  because  a  hired  hand,  just  a  waif  of  an 


302  Winning  the  Wilderness 

orphan  boy,  got  drunk  in  Hans  Wyker's  joint  and  fell 
into  Big  Wolf  and  was  drowned.  Funny  thing  about  it 
was  that  Darley  Champers  came  out  against  Wyker  for 
the  first  time.  It  may  go  hard  with  the  old  Dutchman 
yet.  Jim  Shirley  isn't  very  well,  but  he  never  complains, 
you  know.  Jo  Bennington  was  wild  to  have  me  enlist.  I 
suppose  some  pretty  University  girl  was  backing  you  all 
the  time,"  Todd  said  enthusiastically. 

"  The  only  pretty  girl  I  care  for  didn't  want  me  to  go 
to  the  war  at  all,"  Thaine  replied,  staring  gloomily  out  at 
the  rain. 

"  Well,  why  do  you  go,  then  ?  "  Todd  inquired. 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  specially  care  for  me  here,  either," 
Thaine  replied.  "Girls  don't  control  this  game  for  me. 
But  we  have  some  princes  of  men  here  all  right." 

"As  for  instance?"  Todd  queried. 

"My  captain,  Adna  Clarke,  and  his  lieutenants,  Krause 
and  Alford.  They  were  first  to  enlist  in  our  company  down 
in  the  old  rink  at  Lawrence.  Captain  Clarke  is  the  kind  of 
a  man  who  makes  you  feel  like  straightening  right  up  to 
duty  when  you  see  him  coming,  and  he  is  so  genial  in  his 
discipline  it  is  not  like  discipline.  Lieutenant  Krause  fits 
in  with  him  —  hand  and  glove.  But,  Todd,"  Thaine  went 
on  enthusiastically,  "  if  you  meet  a  man  on  this  camp 
ground  with  the  face  of  a  gentleman,  the  manners  of  a 
soldier,  a  smile  like  sunshine  after  a  dull  day  in  February, 
and  a,  well  a  sort  of  air  about  him  that  makes  you  feel  he's 
your  friend  and  that  doing  a  kind  act  is  the  only  thing  a 
fellow  should  ever  think  of  doing  —  that's  Lieutenant 
Alford.  There  are  some  fine  University  boys  here  and  we 
have  all  packed  up  our  old  Kansas  University  yell,  'Rock 


Remembering  the  Maine  303 

Chalk !  Jay  Hawk !  K  U ! '  to  use  on  the  Spanish.  We'll 
make  them  learn  to  run  whenever  they  hear  that  yell.  The 
whole  regiment  is  a  credit  to  Kansas,  if  we  haven't  the 
clothes  right  now.  You  are  rather  a  disreputable  looking 
old  mudball  yourself.  Let's  try  to  get  to  the  hospital 
tent." 

Thaine  lifted  Todd  Stewart  to  his  feet,  and  as  they 
started  up  the  slushy  way  to  the  hospital  tent,  he  said: 

"Yonder  is  Lieutenant  Alford  now." 

A  young  man  with  a  face  as  genial  as  his  manner  was 
dignified  responded  pleasantly  to  the  private's  salute,  and 
the  rainfall  seemed  less  dreary  and  all  the  camp  more  cheer 
ful  for  this  lieutenant's  presence.  No  wonder  he  seemed 
a  prince  to  the  enthusiastic  young  soldier  whose  admiration 
deepened  into  an  abiding  love  he  was  never  to  lose  out  of 
his  life  in  all  the  years  to  come.  In  the  months  that  fol 
lowed  Thaine  came  to  know  Captain  Clarke  and  his  two 
lieutenants,  Krause  and  Alford,  as  soldier  knows  soldier. 
Nor  did  ever  Trojan  nor  Roman  military  hero  have  truer 
homage  from  the  common  private  than  the  boy  from  the 
Grass  River  Valley  paid  to  these  young  men  commanding 
his  company. 

The  hardships  of  soldier  life  began  for  Thaine  Aydelot 
and  his  regiment  with  the  day  of  enlistment.  The  priva 
tions  at  Camp  Leedy  were  many.  The  volunteers  had 
come  in  meagerly  clothed  because  they  expected  to  be  fully 
supplied  by  the  government  they  were  to  serve.  The  camp 
equipments  were  insufficient.  The  food  was  poor,  and  day 
after  day  the  rain  poured  mercilessly  down  on  the  muddy 
campground,  where  the  volunteers  slept  on  wet  straw  piled 
on  the  wet  earth.  Sore  throats,  colds,  and  pneumonia  re- 


304  Winning  the  Wilderness 

suited,  and  many  a  homesick  boy  who  learned  to  wade  the 
rice  swamps  and  to  face  the  Mauser's  bullets  fearlessly  had 
his  first  hard  lesson  of  endurance  taught  to  him  before  he 
left  Camp  Leedy  on  the  old  Topeka  Fair  Ground. 

Wonderful  history-making  filled  up  the  May  days. 
While  the  fleets  and  land  forces  were  moving  against  Cuba, 
the  deep  sea  cable  brought  the  brief  story  from  Commodore 
Dewey  in  the  harbor  of  Manila,  "  Eleven  Spanish  warships 
destroyed  and  no  Americans  killed." 

And  suddenly  the  center  of  interest  shifted  from  the 
Cuban  Island  near  at  hand  to  the  Philippines  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  The  front  door  of  America  that  for 
four  centuries  had  opened  on  the  Atlantic  ocean  opened 
once  and  forever  on  Pacific  waters.  A  new  frontier  reced 
ing  ever  before  the  footprint  of  the  Anglo-American  flung 
itself  about  the  far-off  island  of  the  Orient  with  its  old 
alluring  call: 

Something  lost  behind  the  Ranges! 
Over  Yonder!    Go  you  there! 

And  the  Twentieth  Kansas,  under  Colonel  Fred  Funston, 
broke  camp  and  hurried  to  San  Francisco  to  be  ready  to 
answer  that  call. 

Thaine  Aydelot  had  never  been  outside  of  Kansas  before. 
Small  wonder  that  the  mountains,  the  desert,  the  vinelands, 
and  orchard-lands,  and  rose-lands  of  California,  the  half- 
orientalism  of  San  Francisco  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  with  its 
world-old  mystery  of  untamed  immensity  should  fill  each 
day  with  a  newer  interest ;  or  that  the  conditions  of  soldier 
life  at  Camp  Merritt  beside  the  Golden  Gate,  to  which  the 
eager-hearted,  untrained  young  student  from  the  Kansas 


Remembering  the  Maine  305 

prairie  brought  all  his  youthful  enthusiasm  and  patriotism 
and  love  of  adventure,  should  wound  his  spirit  and  test  his 
power  of  self-control.  Small  wonder,  too,  that  the  Twen 
tieth  Kansas  Regiment,  poorly  equipped,  undrilled,  and 
non-uniformed  still,  should  make  only  a  sorry  showing 
among  the  splendid  regiments  mobilized  there;  or  that  to 
the  big,  rich  City  of  San  Francisco  the  ragged  fellows  from 
the  prairies,  who  were  dubbed  the  "Kansas  Scarecrows," 
should  become  the  byword  and  laughing  stock  among  things 
military. 

One  neglect  followed  another  for  the  Kansas  Twentieth. 
The  poorest  camping  spot  was  their  portion.  The  chill 
of  the  nights,  the  heat  of  the  days  oppressed  them.  The 
filth  of  their  unsanitary  grounds  bred  discomfort  and  dis 
ease. 

But  no  military  favors  were  shown  them,  and  the 
same  old  stupid  jests  and  jibes  of  the  ignorant  citizen  of 
the  other  states  were  repeated  on  the  Pacific  seaboard. 
When  the  thirtieth  of  May  called  forth  the  military  forces 
in  one  grand  parade  the  Twentieth  Kansas  was  not  invited 
to  take  part. 

For  Thaine  Aydelot,  to  whom  Decoration  Day  was  a 
sacred  Sabbath  always,  this  greatest  of  all  indignities  cut 
deep  where  a  man's  soul  feels  keenest.  And  when  trans 
port  after  transport  sailed  out  of  the  San  Francisco  harbor, 
loaded  with  regiments  for  the  Philippines,  and  still  the 
Twentieth  Kansas  was  left  in  idle  waiting  on  the  dreary 
sand  lots  of  Camp  Merritt  and  the  Presidio  reservation,  the 
silent  campaign  that  really  makes  a  soldier  was  waged 
daily  in  Thaine  and  his  comrades. 

"  Don't  complain,  boys,"  Captain  Clarke  admonished  his 


306  Winning  the  Wilderness 

company.  "  We'll  be  ready  when  we  are  called,  and  that's 
what  really  counts." 

Other  commanders  of  the  regiment  gave  the  same  encour 
agement.  So  the  daily  drilling  went  on.  The  sons  of  the 
indomitable  men  and  women  who  had  conquered  the  border 
ruffian,  the  hostile  Plains  Indian,  and  the  unfriendly  prairie 
sod,  these  sons  kept  their  faith  in  themselves,  their  pride 
in  the  old  Kansas  State  that  bore  them,  and  their  everlasting 
good  humor  and  energy  and  ability  to  learn.  Such  men 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth. 

Todd  Stewart  made  a  brave  struggle,  but  his  slide  on 
the  muddy  ground  at  Camp  Leedy  was  his  military  undoing, 
and  his  discharge  followed. 

"  I'm  going  to  start  back  to  old  Grass  River  tomorrow," 
he  said  to  Thaine  Aydelot,  who  had  called  to  see  him  with 
face  aglow.  "  I've  made  the  best  fight  I  could,  but  the 
doctor  says  the  infantry  needs  two  legs,  and  neither  one 
wooden.  But  best  of  all,  Thaine,  Jo  has  written  that  she 
wants  me  to  come  home.  It's  not  so  bad  if  there's  a 
welcome  like  that  waiting.  She  is  slowly  overcoming 
her  dislike  for  country  life.  But  I  can't  help  envying 
you." 

"Oh,  you'll  stand  on  both  feet  all  right  when  you  get 
them  both  on  the  short  grass  of  the  prairie  again,  and,  as 
you  say,  the  welcome  makes  up  for  a  good  many  losses." 

Something  impenetrable  came  into  his  eyes  for  the 
moment  only  and  then  the  fire  of  enthusiasm  burned  again 
in  them,  for  Thaine's  nerves  were  a-tingle  with  the  ambition 
and  anticipation  of  the  young  soldier  waiting  immediate 
orders,  and  he  changed  the  subject  eagerly. 

"I  came  to  tell  you  something,  Todd.     We  are  to  sail 


Remembering  the  Maine  307 

the  seas  on  the  next  transport  to  Manila,  sure.     And  we'll 
see  service  yet,  all  right." 

Thaine  threw  his  cap  in  air  and  danced  about  the  bed 
in  his  enthusiasm. 

"  Glory  be !  Won't  Fred  Funston  do  things  when  he 
hits  the  Orient?  Best  colonel  that  ever  had  the  U.  S. 
military  engines  to  buck  against." 

Todd  rejoiced,  even  in  his  own  disappointment. 

"But  see  here,  Thaine,  me  child,  I  also  have  a  bit  of 
news  that  may  interest  you  plumb  through.  My  surgeon 
isn't  equal  to  the  Philippines  either,  nor  the  Ephesians,  nor 
Colossians,  and  he's  going  back  to  some  fort  in  the  moun 
tains.  Who  do  you  s'pose  will  take  his  place?  Now, 
who?" 

"How  should  I  know?  Seeing  I've  got  to  get  this  regi 
ment  off,  I  have  to  leave  the  hospital  corps  to  you.  Who 
is  it?"  Thaine  asked. 

"Dr.  Horace  Carey,  M.D. !"  Todd  replied. 

"  You  don't  mean  it ! "  Thaine  gasped. 

"Yes,  he  does,  Thaine."  It  was  Horace  Carey  who 
spoke,  as  he  entered  the  hospital  quarter,  and,  as  everywhere 
else,  the  same  engaging  smile  and  magnetic  charm  of  per 
sonality  filled  the  place. 

Thaine  turned  and  gathered  him  in  close  embrace. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Carey,  are  you  really  going?"  He  whistled, 
and  shouted,  and  executed  jigs  in  his  joy.  "Why  do  you 
go?  Can  you  leave  Kansas?  You  and  me  both?  Oh, 
hurry  home,  Todd,  and  show  Governor  Leedy  how  to  run 
things  without  us."  And  much  more  to  like  effect. 

"  I've  a  notion  I'm  the  right  man  to  go,"  Horace  Carey 
answered.  "  I  had  experience  in  the  late  Civil  War,  which 


308  Winning  the  Wilderness 

seems  trifling  to  you  fellows  at  the  Presidio.  I  rode  the 
Plains  for  some  years  more  when  rattlesnakes  and  Indian 
arrows  —  poisoned  at  that  —  and  cholera  and  mountain 
fever  called  for  a  surgeon's  aid.  I  have  diplomas  and  things 
from  the  best  schools  in  the  East.  I  have  also  some  good 
military  friends  in  authority  to  back  me  in  getting  a 
surgeon's  place  in  the  army  —  and,  lastly,  I  haven't  a  soul 
to  miss  me,  nor  home  to  leave  dreary,  if  I  get  between 
you  and  the  enemy ;  nobody  but  Boanerges  Peeperville  to 
care  personally,  and  Mrs.  Aydelot.  as  the  only  other  aristo 
crat  in  the  Grass  River  Valley,  has  promised  to  give  him 
a  home.  He  has  always  adored  Virginia,  Thaine,  since  he 
could  remember  anything." 

Thaine  Aydelot  was  only  twenty-one,  with  little  need 
hitherto  for  experience  in  reading  human  nature.  More 
over,  he  was  alert  in  every  tingling  nerve  with  the  anticipa 
tion  of  an  ocean  voyage  and  of  strange  new  sights  and 
daring  deeds  half  a  world  away.  Yet  something  in  Dr. 
Carey's  strong  face  seemed  to  imply  a  deeper  purpose  than 
his  words  suggested.  A  faint  sense  of  the  nobility  of  the 
man  gripped  him  and  grew  upon  him,  and  never  in  the 
years  that  followed  was  separate  from  the  memory  of  the 
doctor  he  had  loved  from  babyhood. 

When  the  Ohio  woodlands  were  gorgeous  with  the  frost- 
fired  splendor  of  October  word  came  to  Miss  Jane  Aydelot, 
of  the  old  Aydelot  farmhouse  beside  the  National  pike  road, 
that  one  Thaine  Aydelot  had  sailed  from  San  Francisco 
with  the  Twentieth  Kansas  Regiment  to  see  service  in  the 
Philippine  Islands.  On  board  the  same  transport  was  Dr. 
Horace  Carey,  of  the  military  medical  staff.  That  winter 


Remembering  the  Maine  309 

Jane  Aydelot's  hair  turned  white,  but  the  pink  bloom  of 
her  cheeks  and  the  light  of  her  clear  gray  eyes  made  her 
a  sweet-faced  woman  still,  whose  loveliness  grew  with  the 
years. 

The  kiss  of  the  same  October  breezes  was  on  the  Kansas 
prairie  with  the  hazy  horizon  and  the  infinite  beauty  of 
wide,  level  landscapes,  overhung  by  the  infinite  beauty  of 
blue,  tender  skies.  Boanerges  Peeperville,  established  as 
cook  in  the  Sunflower  Inn,  was  at  home  in  his  cosy  little 
quarter  beside  the  grape  arbor  of  the  rear  dooryard. 

"  Tell  me,  Bo  Peep,  why  Dr.  Carey  should  enter  the 
army  again  and  go  to  the  Philippines  ? "  Virginia 
Aydelot  asked  on  the  day  the  news  reached  the  Sunflower 
Ranch. 

Bo  Peep  did  not  answer  at  once.  Virginia  was  busy 
arranging  some  big  yellow  chrysanthemums  in  a  tall  cut- 
glass  vase  that  Dr.  Carey  had  left  to  be  sent  down  to  her 
when  Bo  Peep  should  come  to  the  Aydelots  to  make  his 
home. 

"See,  Bo  Peep,  aren't  they  pretty?  Set  them  in  the 
middle  of  the  table  there,  carefully.  The  first  bouquet  we 
ever  had  on  our  table  was  a  few  little  sunflowers  in  an  old 
peach  can  wrapped  round  with  a  newspaper.  You  didn't 
answer  my  question.  Why  did  Horace  go  so  far  away?" 

The  servant  took  the  vase  carefully  and  placed  it  as 
commanded.  Then  he  turned  to  Virginia  with  a  face  full 
of  intense  feeling. 

"Miss  Virgie,  I  done  carry  messages  for  him  all  my 
days."  The  pathos  of  the  soft  voice  was  touching.  "I 
wasn't  to  give  this  las'  one  to  you  less'n  he  neveh  come 
back.  An  Mis'  Virgie,  Doctoh  Carey  won't  neveh  come 


310  Winning  the  Wilderness 

back  no  mo'.  But  I  kaint  tell  you  yet  jus'  why  he  done 
taken  hisself  to  the  Fillippians,  not  yet." 

"Why  do  you  think  he  will  never  come  back?  You 
think  Thaine  will  come  home  again,  don't  you?"  Virginia 
queried. 

"  Oh,  yas'm !  yas'm !  Misteh  Thaine,  he'll  come  back  all 
right.  But  hit's  done  fo'casted  in  my  bones  that  Doctoh 
Horace  won't  neveh  come.  An'  when  he  don't,  I'll  tell  you 
why  he  leff'n  Grass  Riveh,  Kansas,  for  the  Fillippians." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  "FIGHTING  TWENTIETH" 

Malolos  and  Bocaue's  trenches  know  the  Kansas  yell; 
San  Fernando  and  San  Tomas  the  Kansas  story  swell; 
At  Guiguinto's  fiercest  battle  yon  flag  in  honor  flew ; 
What  roaring  rifles  kept  it,  all  Luna's  army  knew; 
And  high  it  swung  o'er  Caloocan,  Bagbag  and  Marilao— 
"  Those  raggedy  Pops  from  Kansas "  'fore  God  they're  heroes 
now. 

— LIEUTENANT-COLONEL  E.  C.  LITTLE. 

NIGHT  had  fallen  on  the  city  of  Manila.  Before  it 
lay  the  bay  whose  waters  lapped  softly  against  pier 
and  shipping.  Behind  it  in  the  great  arc  of  a  circle 
stretched  the  American  line  of  military  outposts,  guarded 
by  sentinels.  Beyond  that  line,  north,  east,  and  south,  there 
radiated  a  tangle  of  roads  and  trails  through  little  villages 
of  nipa  huts,  past  rice  fields  and  jungles,  marshes  and 
rivers,  into  the  very  heart  of  Luzon.  Manila  was  under 
American  military  government,  but  Luzon  was  in  insur 
rection  against  all  government,  and  a  network  of  rebellious 
lines  of  enemies  fretted  every  jungle,  hid  in  every  village, 
intrenched  itself  in  every  rice  field,  and  banked  its  earth 
works  beyond  every  river.  While  Emilio  Aguinaldo,  the 
shrewd  leader  of  an  ignorant,  half-savage  peasantry, 
plotted  craftily  with  his  associates  for  the  seizure  of  the 
rich  capital  of  Luzon  and  dreamed  of  the  autocratic  power 
and  heaps  of  looted  treasure  that  he  should  soon  control. 
For  weeks  in  sight  of  the  American  outposts,  the  Fil 
ipinos  had  strengthened  their  trenches,  and  established  their 
fortifications,  the  while  they  bided  the  hour  of  outbreak 

311 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


and  slaughter  of  the  despised  Americanos,  and  the  seizing 
of  the  rich  booty  afterward. 

Upon  the  Tondo  road,  running  north  from  Manila  to 
Caloocan,  Thaine  Aydelot,  with  a  Kansas  University  com 
rade,  was  doing  silent  sentinel  duty.  The  outpost  was 
nearly  a  mile  away  from  a  bridge  on  the  outskirts  of 
Manila.  In  the  attack  imminent,  this  bridge  would  be  one 
of  the  keys  to  the  city,  and  the  command  had  been  given 
to  hold  it  against  all  invaders  at  any  cost. 

Between  Thaine  and  the  bridge  was  a  stretch  of  dusty 
road,  flanked  on  one  side  by  nipa  huts.  On  the  other  side 
were  scattered  dwellings,  tall  shrubbery,  and  low-lying 
rice  fields,  beyond  which  lay  the  jungle. 

Before  the  young  sentinel  the  road  made  a  sharp  bend, 
cutting  off  the  view  and  giving  no  hint  to  the  enemy  around 
this  bend  of  how  strong  a  force  might  be  filling  the  road 
toward  the  bridge. 

Thaine  knew  that  around  that  bend  and  behind  the  rice 
dykes  and  in  the  nearby  trenches  were  Filipino  insurgents 
with  finger  on  the  trigger  ready  to  begin  an  assault.  But 
until  the  first  gun  of  the  first  battle  is  fired,  battle  seems 
impossible  to  the  young  soldier. 

As  Thaine  turned  from  the  dim  road,  he  caught  the 
glint  of  starlight  on  the  edge  of  a  rice  swamp.  He  wanted 
to  fight  Filipinos  tonight,  not  memories.  But  the  memory 
of  the  Aydelot  grove  and  the  water  lilies  opening  their 
creamy  hearts  to  the  moonlight,  and  Leigh  Shirley  in  her 
white  dress  with  her  cheeks  faintly  pink  in  the  clear 
shadows,  all  swept  his  mind  and  challenged  him  to  forget 
everything  else. 

The  same  grip  on  a  principle,  coupled  with  a  daring 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth3'  313 

spirit  and  love  of  adventure  that  had  brought  old  Jean 
Aydelot  to  the  Virginia  colony  long  ago,  and  had  pushed 
Francis  Aydelot  across  the  Alleghanies  into  the  forests  of 
the  Ohio  frontier,  and  had  called  Asher  Aydelot  to  the 
unconquered  prairies  of  the  big  West  —  the  same  love  of 
adventure  and  daring  spirit  and  belief  in  a  cause  bigger 
than  his  own  interests  had  lured  Thaine  Aydelot  on  to 
the  islands  of  Oriental  seas.  With  the  military  schooling 
and  unschooling  where  discipline  tends  to  make  a  soldier, 
and  absence  of  home  influence  tends  to  make  the  careless 
rowdy,  the  sterling  uprightness  of  the  Aydelots  and  the 
inborn  gentility  of  the  Thaines  kept  the  boy  from  the  Kan 
sas  prairies  a  fearless  gentleman.  Withal,  he  was  exuber 
antly  pleased  with  life,  as  a  young  man  of  twenty-one 
should  be.  He  lived  mostly  in  the  company  of  Kansas 
University  men,  and  with  the  old  University  yell  of  "  Rock 
Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!"  for  their  slogan,  they  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  in  every  conflict. 

Lastly,  he  was  a  hero-worshiper  at  the  shrine  of  his 
colonel,  Fred  Funston,  and  his  captain,  Adna  Clarke; 
while  in  all  the  regiment,  the  fair  face  of  young  Lieutenant 
Alford  seemed  to  him  most  gracious.  Alford  was  his  sol 
dier  ideal,  type  of  the  best  the  battlefield  may  know.  And, 
even  if  all  this  admiration  did  have  in  it  much  of  youthful 
sentimentalism,  it  took  nothing  from  his  efficiency  when  he 
came  to  his  place  on  the  firing  line. 

"I  wonder  where  Doctor  Carey  is  tonight,"  Thaine's 
comrade  said  in  a  low  voice,  as  the  two  came  together  in 
the  road. 

"What's  made  you  think  of  him?"  Thaine  asked. 

"  I  haven't   seen   him   since   Christmas   day.      A   young 


314  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Filipino  and  I  got  into  a  scrap  with  a  drunken  Chinaman 
who  was  beating  a  boy,  and  the  Chink  slashed  us  both. 
Carey  stitched  us  up,  but  the  other  fellow  keeps  a  scar 
across  his  face,  all  right." 

"  I  know  that  Filipino,"  Thaine  said.  "  He  seems  like 
a  fine  young  man.  The  scar  was  a  marker  for  him.  I'd 
know  him  by  it  anywhere." 

"  So  should  I,  and  by  his  peculiar  gait.  I  saw  a  man 
slipping  along  beyond  the  lines  just  now  who  made  me 
think  of  that  fellow,  and  that  made  me  think  of  Doctor 
Carey,"  the  sentinel  said,  and  turned  away. 

It  was  after  nine  o'clock,  and  the  hours  were  already 
beginning  to  stretch  wearily  for  sentinels,  when  a  faint 
sound  of  guns  away  to  the  eastward  broke  on  the  air. 
Again  and  again  it  came,  intermittently  at  first,  but  in 
creasing  to  a  steady  roar.  Down  in  Manila  there  was 
dead  quiet,  but  along  the  American  line  of  outposts  the 
ripping  of  Mauser  bullets  and  long  streaks  of  light  flashed 
the  Filipino  challenge  to  war  in  steady  volleys. 

As  Thaine  listened,  the  firing  seemed  to  be  creeping 
gradually  toward  the  north,  and  he  knew  the  insurgents 
were  swinging  toward  the  Tondo  road,  down  which  they 
would  rush  to  storm  the  bridge.  In  that  moment  civil 
life  dropped  off  like  a  garment,  and  he  stood  up  a  soldier. 
He  crept  cautiously  toward  the  bend  to  see  what  lay 
beyond,  and  dropped  on  his  face  in  the  dusty  way  as  a 
whirl  of  bullets  split  the  air  above  his  head. 

As  he  sprang  back  to  his  place  beside  his  comrade,  other 
sentinels  joined  them,  and  behind  them  loomed  the  tall  form 
of  Captain  Clarke. 

"What's  around  there,  Avdelot?"  Clarke  asked. 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  315 

"Didn't  you  hear?" 

Thaine's  reply  was  lost  in  a  roar  of  rifles,  followed  by 
increased  firing  along  the  entire  line,  massing  to  the  north 
before  the  Twentieth's  front. 

"There  are  ten  more  men  on  the  way  up  here.  We'll 
hold  this  place  until  reinforcements  come,"  Captain  Clarke 
declared. 

It  was  such  a  strategic  point  as  sometimes  turns  the 
history  of  war.  But  the  odds  are  heavy  for  sixteen  men 
to  stand  against  swarms  of  insurgents  armed  with  Mausers 
and  Remingtons.  In  the  thrill  of  that  moment,  Thaine 
Aydelot  would  have  died  by  inches  had  this  tall,  cool-headed 
captain  of  his  demanded  it.  Clarke  arranged  his  men  on 
either  side  of  the  way,  and  the  return  fire  began.  Suddenly 
up  the  road  a  lantern  gleamed.  An  instant  later  a  can 
non  shot  plowed  the  dust  between  the  two  lines  of  men. 

"They've  turned  a  cannon  loose.  Watch  out,"  Clarke 
called  through  the  darkness. 

A  second  time  and  a  third  the  lantern  glowed,  and  each 
time  a  cannon  ball  crashed  through  a  nipa  hut  beside  the 
little  company,  or  threw  a  shower  of  dust  about  the  place. 

They  have  to  load  that  gun  by  the  light  of  a  lantern. 
Let's  fix  the  lantern,"  Thaine  cried,  as  the  dust  cloud  settled 
down. 

"Good!  Watch  your  aim,  boys,"  Captain  Clarke 
replied. 

The  bullets  were  falling  thick  about  them.  They  whizzed 
through  the  bushes,  they  cut  into  the  thatched  huts,  they 
flung  swirls  of  dust  on  the  little  line  of  brave  soldiers, 
they  poured  like  stinging  sweeps  of  hail,  volley  after  vol 
ley,  along  the  Tondo  road.  When  the  lantern  flashed  again, 


316  Winning  the  Wilderness 

sixteen  bullets  riddled  it,  and  without  its  help  the  big  gun 
was  useless. 

"  Poor  lantern !  It  fell  on  the  firing  line,  brave  to  the 
last,"  Thaine  declared  as  the  smoke  lifted. 

But  the  loss  of  the  cannon  only  doubled  the  insurgents' 
efforts,  and  they  threshed  at  the  invincible  little  band  with 
smoking  lead.  On  the  one  side  wras  a  host  of  Filipino 
rebels,  believing  by  the  incessant  firing  of  the  Kansans  that 
it  was  facing  an  equal  host.  On  the  other  side  were  sixteen 
men  who,  knowing  the  odds  against  them,  dared  the  game 
of  war  to  the  limit. 

"  How  many  rounds  have  you  left  ? "  Captain  Clarke 
asked. 

"  Only  one,"  came  the  answer. 

"  Give  it  to  them  when  I  give  the  word.  We  won't  run 
till  our  guns  are  empty,"  the  captain  declared  grimly. 

The  last  shot  was  ready  to  fly,  when  a  wild  yell  burst 
from  the  darkness  behind  them,  the  shouts  to  "remember 
the  Maine"  mingled  with  the  old  university  yell  of  "Rock 
Chalk,  Jay  Hawk,  K.  U.  oo ! "  and  reinforcements  charged 
to  the  relief  of  the  invincible  sixteen. 

What  disaster  might  have  followed  the  capture  of  the 
Tondo  road  and  the  attack  upon  the  bridge  is  only  con 
jecture.  What  did  happen  is  history  —  type  henceforth 
of  that  line  of  history  every  company  of  the  Twentieth 
Kansas  was  to  help  to  build.  When  daylight  came,  Thaine 
Aydelot  saw  the  frontier  line  that  he  had  proudly  felt  him 
self  called  hither  to  push  back,  and  the  reality  of  it  was 
awful.  He  had  pictured  captured  trenches,  but  he  had  not 
put  in  their  decoration  —  the  prone  forms  of  dead  Filipinos 
with  staring  eyes,  seeing  nothing  earthly  any  more  forever. 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  317 

Beyond  that  line,  however,  lay  the  new  wilderness  that 
the  Anglo-American  must  conquer,  and  he  flung  himself 
upon  the  firing  line,  as  if  the  safety  and  honor  of  the 
American  nation  rested  on  his  shoulders  alone;  while  all 
his  dreams  of  glorious  warfare,  where  Greek  meets  Greek 
in  splendid  gallantry,  faded  out  before  the  actual  warfare 
of  the  days  and  nights  that  followed. 

Thaine's  regiment,  not  the  "  Kansas  Scarecrows,"  but 
the  "  Fighting  Twentieth  "  now,  was  one  of  the  regiments 
on  which  rested  the  brunt  of  driving  back  and  subduing 
the  rebellious  Filipinos.  Swiftly  the  Kansas  boys  pushed 
into  the  unknown  country  north  of  Manila.  They  rushed 
across  the  rice  fields,  whose  low  dykes  gave  little  protec 
tion  from  the  enemy.  They  plunged  through  marshes,  waist 
deep  in  water.  They  lay  for  hours  behind  their  earthworks, 
half  buried  in  muddy  slime.  They  slept  in  holes,  drenched 
to  the  skin.  With  the  University  yell  for  their  battle  cry 
of  freedom,  they  tore  through  tropical  jungles  with  the 
bullets  of  the  enemy  cutting  the  branches  overhead  or 
spattering  the  dirt  about  their  feet. 

The  American  regiments  were  six  days  in  reaching 
Caloocan,  a  prosperous  town  only  six  miles  north  of 
Manila;  a  mile  a  day,  every  foot  stubbornly  contested. 

On  Sabbath  morning  in  the  first  day's  struggle,  Thaine 
Was  running  in  a  line  of  soldiery  toward  the  Filipino  forti 
fication,  when  he  was  halted  beside  a  thatched  hut  that  stood 
between  the  guns  of  both  armies  and  was  riddled  with 
bullets. 

"Help  the  corporal  here,  Aydelot,  then  double  quick  it 
ahead,"  Lieutenant  Krause  commanded. 

Thaine  followed  the  corporal  inside  the  hut  where,  shot 


318  Winning  the  Wilderness 

to  pieces,  lay  the  mangled  forms  of  women  and  children 
who  had  caught  the  storm  of  bullets  from  both  firing  lines. 
Through  a  gaping  hole  in  the  wall  beyond,  he  saw  a  shal 
low  pit  where  wounded  and  dead  men  and  women  were 
huddled  together. 

"Help  me  get  out  the  live  ones  and  send  them  back 
to  Manila,  and  we'll  cover  the  others  right  here,"  the  cor 
poral  declared. 

It  was  the  neighborhood  custom  of  the. Grass  River  Valley 
for  young  men  to  assist  at  every  funeral.  Thaine  had  j  ok- 
ingly  dubbed  himself  "  official  neighborhood  pall-bearer," 
and  had  served  at  so  many  funerals  that  the  service  had 
become  merely  one  of  silent  dignity  which  he  forgot  the 
next  hour.  He  knew  just  how  to  place  the  flowers  effec 
tively,  when  to  step  aside  and  wait,  and  when  to  come  for 
ward  and  take  hold.  And  these  were  the  only  kinds  of 
services  he  had  known  for  the  dead. 

As  he  bent  over  the  blood-smeared  bodies  to  take  up  the 
wounded  and  dying  now,  the  horror  of  war  burst  upon  him, 
and  no  dead  face  could  be  more  ashy  gray  than  the  young 
soldier's  face  as  he  lifted  it  above  a  dying  Filipino  woman 
whom  he  stretched  tenderly  beside  the  hut.  The  next  victim 
way  a  boy,  a  deserter  from  Manila,  whom  Thaine  recog 
nized  by  a  scar  across  his  cheek  as  the  young  Filipino  whose 
wound  Doctor  Carey  had  dressed. 

"  You  poor  fellow ! "  Thaine  said  softly. 

The  boy's  eyes  opened  in  recognition. 

"  For  liberty,"  he  murmured  in  Spanish,  with  a  scowling 
face.  Then  the  scowl  faded  to  a  smile,  and  in  a  moment 
more  he  had  entered  eternal  liberty. 

A  detachment  of  the  Red  Cross  with  a  white-haired  sur- 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  319 

geon  just  then  relieved  the  corporal  of  the  wounded,  and 
Thaine  saw  Dr.  Horace  Carey  coming  toward  him. 

"I  know  what  you  are  thinking.  Maybe  your  gun  did 
a  good  deal  of  it.  This  is  war,  Thaine." 

The  young  man's  dark  eyes  burned  with  agony  at  the 
thought. 

"Forget  it,"  Carey  added  hurriedly.  "It  is  the  lost 
cause  here.  I  worked  that  line  myself  for  four  years  long 
ago.  I  know  the  feeling.  But  this  is  the  only  medicine  to 
give  the  islands  here.  They  can't  manage  liberty  for  them 
selves.  You  are  giving  them  more  freedom  with  your  rifle 
today  than  they  could  get  for  themselves  in  a  century.  Don't 
wet  your  powder  with  your  tears.  You  may  need  it  for  the 
devil  that's  after  you  now.  Wait  till  you  see  a  Kansas 
boy  brought  in  and  count  the  cost  again.  Good-by." 

The  doctor  hastened  away  with  the  wounded,  and  Thaine 
helped  to  straighten  out  the  forms  about  him  and  to  fill 
the  pit  where  they  were  placed  in  one  common  grave. 

"Wait  till  you  see  a  Kansas  boy  brought  in  and  then 
count  the  cost." 

Somehow,  the  words,  ringing  again  and  again  down 
his  mind,  could  not  take  away  the  picture  of  the  thing 
he  had  just  witnessed.  And  the  dying  gasp,  "  For  liberty  ! " 
seemed  to  stab  his  soul,  as  he  ran  forward. 

Two  days  later  his  company  had  orders  to  hold  the 
trenches  before  a  jungle  filled  with  sharpshooters.  All  day 
the  sun  had  blazed  down  upon  them  and  the  humid  atmos 
phere  had  scalded  them.  All  day  the  murderous  "  ping ! 
pincr!"  Of  the  hidden  Mauser  in  the  jungle  had  stung  the 
air  about  them. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Thaine  lay  crouched  behind  his 


320  Winning  the  Wilderness 

low  defense  with  a  college  comrade  on  either  side.  Colonel 
Funston  had  just  given  the  command  to  rid  the  woods  of 
the  sharpshooters,  and  the  force  ordered  to  the  attack  came 
racing  by.  Captain  Clarke  stood  near  Thaine's  post,  and 
as  the  soldiers  rushed  forward,  Lieutenant  Alford  halted 
beside  him.  Even  in  the  thrill  of  the  hour,  the  private 
down  in  the  trenches  felt  a  sense  of  bigger  manhood  as  he 
looked  at  the  young  officer,  for  Alford  was  every  inch  a 
king ;  his  soldier  uniform  became  him  like  a  robe  of  royalty. 
His  fine  face  was  aglow  now  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
battle  and  the  assurance  of  victory. 

Thaine  did  not  hear  the  words  of  the  two  officers,  for 
the  jungle  was  beginning  to  roar  with  battle  cries  and 
bursting  fire  from  many  guns.  But  he  knew  the  two  had 
been  boyhood  friends,  university  chums,  and  military  com 
rades,  and  the  love  of  man  for  man  shone  in  their  faces. 

Alford  tarried  but  a  moment  with  Clarke.  As  he  spied 
Thaine  and  his  comrades,  he  gave  an  instant's  glance  of 
kindly  recognition  to  the  admiring  young  privates,  and 
was  gone.  The  three  involuntarily  rose  to  their  feet,  as  if 
to  follow  him,  and  from  three  lusty  throats  they  sent  after 
him  the  beloved  battle  yell  of  the  regiment,  "  Rock  Chalk ! 
Jay  Hawk !  K.  U. ! "  then  dropped  to  their  places  again 
and  hugged  the  earth  as  the  rifle  balls  whizzed  about  them. 

"I'm  glad  I'm  alive  and  I'm  glad  I  know  that  man," 
Thaine  said  to  his  neighbors. 

"  Alf ord's  a  prince.  I'll  bet  he'll  clean  that  woods  before 
he's  through.  His  work  is  always  well  done.  Would  you 
listen  to  that  ?  "  his  comrade  replied. 

A  tremendous  crash  of  rifle  shots  seemed  to  split  the 
jungle  as  the  Kansas  troops  charged  into  it.  The  men 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth "  321 

in  the  trenches  lay  flat  to  the  earth  while  the  balls  fell  about 
them  or  sang  a  long  whining  note  through  the  air  over 
them.  Fiercer  grew  the  fray,  and  louder  roared  the  guns, 
and  wilder  the  bullets  flew,  as  the  fighting  lines  swept  over 
the  enemy's  earthworks  and  struck  with  deadly  force  into 
the  heart  of  its  wooded  cover. 

Then  came  a  lull  for  shifting  the  fighting  grip.  A  relief 
force  was  hurried  to  the  front  and  the  first  companies 
retired  for  a  brief  rest.  They  fell  back  in  order,  while  the 
aids  came  trooping  out  of  the  brush  in  groups,  bearing  the 
wounded  to  places  of  shelter.  Thaine  Aydelot  and  his 
comrades  lifted  their  heads  above  the  earthworks  for  an 
instant.  Captain  Clarke  sat  near  on  a  little  knoll  staring 
hard  at  a  stretcher  borne  toward  him  by  the  aids.  The 
manner  of  covering  indicated  a  dead  body  on  it. 

"How  different  the  captain's  face  is  from  what  it  was 
before  the  attack,"  Thaine  thought,  as  he  recalled  the 
moment  when  Clarke  had  talked  with  Lieutenant  Alford. 
And  then  the  image  of  the  young  lieutenant's  face,  so  full 
of  life  and  hope  and  power  and  gentleness,  swept  vividly 
across  his  mind. 

"Who  is  it,  boys?"  Clarke  called  to  the  soldiers  with  the 
stretcher. 

"Lieutenant  Alford,"  they  answered. 

Something  black  dropped  before  Thaine  Aydelot's  eyes 
and  Doctor  Carey's  words  stung  like  powder  burns  in  his 
memory. 

"  Wait  till  you  see  a  Kansas  boy  brought  in,  and  count 
the  cost  again." 

In  civil  life  character  builds  slowly  up  to  higher  levels. 
In  war,  it  leaps  upward  in  an  instant.  Thaine  sprang  to 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


his  feet  and  stood  up  to  his  full  height  in  the  blaze  of  the 
tropical  sunshine.  He  did  not  see  his  captain,  who  had 
dropped  to  the  ground  like  a  wounded  thing,  stabbed  to 
the  soul  with  an  agony  of  sorrow.  He  did  not  see  the  still 
form  of  the  young  lieutenant  outlined  under  the  cover  of 
the  stretcher.  He  did  not  see  the  trenches  nor  the  lines  of 
khaki-clad,  sun-browned  soldiery  plunging  forward  to  rid 
the  jungle  of  its  deadly  peril.  In  that  one  moment  he 
looked  down  the  years  writh  clear  vision,  as  his  father,  Asher 
Aydelot,  had  learned  to  look  before  him,  and  he  saw  man 
hood  and  a  new  worth  in  human  deeds.  He  had  been  a 
sentimental  dreamer,  ambitious  for  honors  fairly  earned, 
and  eager  for  adventure.  The  first  shots  in  the  night 
attack  on  the  Tondo  road  made  him  a  soldier.  The  mar 
tyrdom  of  Lieutenant  Alf  ord  made  him  a  patriot.  Human 
ity  must  be  worth  much,  it  seemed  to  him,  if,  in  the  provi 
dence  of  God,  such  blood  must  be  spilled  to  redeem  it  to 
nobler  civilization. 

Six  weeks  after  the  death  of  Alford  before  Caloocan, 
Dr.  Horace  Carey  came  up  from  the  hospital  in  Manila  to 
the  American  line  to  see  Thaine  Aydelot.  The  Kansas  boys 
had  been  on  duty  in  the  trenches  north  of  Caloocan  for 
forty  days,  living  beside  the  breastworks  under  the  rude 
shelter  of  bamboo  poles,  watching  a  sleepless  enemy  —  a 
life  as  full  of  wearing  monotony  and  hardship  as  it  was 
full  of  constant  peril. 

"Well,  Thaine,  how  goes  the  game?"  Carey  asked,  as 
he  sat  beside  the  young  soldier  from  the  Grass  River  Valley. 
"  I  helped  you  into  this  world.  I'm  glad  I  haven't  had  to 
help  you  out  yet." 

Carey  had  never  before  seen  any  resemblance  to  Asher 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  323 

Aydelot  in  his  son's  face.  It  was  purely  a  type  of  the  old 
Thaine  family  of  Virginia.  But  today,  the  pose  of  the 
head,  the  expression  of  the  mouth,  the  far-seeing  gaze  of 
the  dark  eyes,  bespoke  the  heritage  of  the  house  of  Aydelot. 

"I  hope  not  to  have  any  more  help  from  you,  either. 
You  got  me  into  the  scrape;  I'll  see  to  the  rest,"  Thaine 
replied.  "Don't  I  look  all  right?  I  haven't  had  a  bath, 
except  in  swamp  mud,  since  the  first  of  February.  Today 
is  the  twenty-third  of  March.  Neither  have  I  seen  a  razor. 
Notice  my  silky  beard.  Nor  a  dress  suit,  nor  a  —  any 
thing  else  civilized.  Six  weeks  in  one  hole,  killing  Filipinos 
for  our  amusement  and  dodging  their  old  Remingtons  for 
theirs,  living  on  army  rations  and  respect  for  the  flag  of 
my  country,  may  not  improve  my  appearance,  but  it  hasn't 
started  me  to  the  sick-shack  yet.  Any  news  from  home  ?  " 
Thaine  ended  with  the  question  put  so  carelessly,  with  a  face 
so  impenetrable  that  Doctor  Carey  took  notice  at  once. 

"  Homesick ! "  was  his  mental  diagnosis,  but  he  answered 
with  equal  carelessness. 

"  Yes,  I  had  a  letter  from  Leigh  Shirley." 

Thaine's  eyes  were  too  full  of  unspeakable  things  now 
for  him  to  hold  out. 

"  She  says  the  alfalfa  is  doing  well.  She  and  Jim  have 
kept  up  all  the  interest,  and  are  beginning  to  reduce  the 
principal.  That's  why  she  wrote." 

"Brave  little  soldier,"  Thaine  muttered. 

"  Yes,  civil  life  has  its  heroes,  too,"  the  doctor  responded. 
"  She  also  says,"  he  continued,  "  that  John  Jacobs  has  had 
Hans  Wyker  convicted  of  running  a  joint  and  Hans  had 
to  pay  a  fine  and  stick  in  the  Carey ville  jail  thirty  days. 
Hans  won't  love  John  for  that  when  he  gets  out," 


Winning  the  Wilderness 


"  What  a  hater  of  whisky  John  Jacobs  is.  He's  always 
on  the  firing  line  and  never  misses  his  aim,  bless  him!" 
Thaine  declared. 

"Yes,  Jacobs'  battle  is  a  steady  one.  He  told  me  just 
before  I  left  Kansas  how  his  mother  was  killed  in  a  saloon 
in  Cincinnati  when  she  was  trying  to  get  his  father  out  of 
it.  John  wouldn't  live  in  a  state  that  had  no  prohibitory 
law,"  the  doctor  commented. 

"Did  Leigh  write  anything  else?"  Thaine  asked. 

"Yes.  Jo  Bennington  and  Todd  Stewart  are  married. 
Pryor  Gaines  is  in  Pekin,  and  he  writes  that  there  are 
rumblings  of  trouble  over  there.  Shall  we  go  over  and 
settle  it  when  we  finish  the  Filipino  fuss  ?  " 

"Might  as  well.  I'd  like  to  see  old  Pryor.  I'm  glad 
Todd  and  Jo  had  sense  enough  to  take  each  other.  I  sup 
pose  Jo  overcame  her  notions  of  living  only  in  the  city. 
What  else?"  Thaine  replied. 

"Nothing  else.  That's  your  message."  Carey's  black 
eyes  held  a  shrewd  twinkle. 

"Why  mine?"  The  impenetrable  face  was  on  Thaine 
again. 

"  See  here,  boy,  don't  think  I  haven't  read  her  story, 
page  by  page.  If  Leigh  had  sent  you  a  single  line,  I'd 
have  begun  to  doubt." 

Thaine  threw  one  arm  about  the  doctor's  shoulder  and 
said  not  a  word.  Then  Carey  read  his  story  also. 

"I  nearly  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Leigh  is  doing  well 
with  her  drawings.  She  sent  me  this,  for  which  she  had  a 
good  price  paid  her." 

Doctor  Carey  unfolded  the  paper  back  of  a  magazine 
having  a  bit  of  prairie  landscape  for  a  cover  design.  In 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  325 

the  distance,  three  headlands  swam  in  the  golden  haze  of 
a  Kansas  October  sunset,  and  their  long  purple  shadows  fell 
wide  across  the  brown  prairie  and  fields  of  garnered 
harvests. 

Thaine  studied  it  carefully,  but  offered  no  comment. 

"Doctor  Carey,  what  brought  you  to  the  Philippines?" 
he  asked  suddenly. 

"  To  look  after  you,"  Carey  replied  frankly. 

"Me!     Do  I  need  it?" 

"You  may.  In  that  case  I'll  be  first  aid  to  the  injured," 
Carey  answered.  "  I'm  to  go  with  the  '  Fighting  Twen 
tieth'  when  it  starts  out  of  these  hog  wallows  toward  the 
insurgents'  capital.  I  must  get  back  to  Manila  and  pack 
for  it.  I  have  my  orders  to  be  ready  in  twenty-four 
hours." 

In  twenty-four  hours  the  "Fighting  Twentieth"  left 
its  six-weeks '  habitation  in  the  trenches  and  began  its  cam 
paign  northward,  and  the  young-hearted,  white-haired  phy 
sician  with  magnetic  smile  and  skillful  judgment  found  a 
work  in  army  service  so  broad  and  useful  that  he  loved  it 
for  its  opportunity. 

Fortunately,  Thaine  had  no  need  for  "first  aid"  from 
Doctor  Carey,  and  he  saw  the  doctor  only  rarely  in  the 
sixty  days  that  followed.  When  the  two  had  time  for  each 
other  again,  Colonel  Fred  Funston's  name  had  been  written 
round  the  world  in  the  annals  of  military  achievement,  the 
resourceful,  courageous,  beloved  leader  of  a  band  of  fight 
ers  from  the  Kansas  prairies  who  were  never  defeated, 
never  driven  back,  never  daunted  by  circumstances.  Great 
were  the  pen  of  that  historian  that  could  fittingly  set  forth 
all  the  deeds  of  daring  and  acts  of  humanity  of  every  comj 


326  Winning  the  Wilderness 

pany  under  every  brave  captain,  for  they  "  all  made  his 
tory,  and  left  records  of  unfading  glory." 

The  regiment  had  reached  the  Rio  Grande,  leaving  no 
unconquered  post  behind  it.  Under  fire,  it  had  forded  the 
Tulijan,  shoulder-deep  to  the  shorter  men.  Under  fire, 
it  had  forged  a  way  through  Guiguinto  and  Malolos. 
Under  fire,  it  had  swam  the  Marilao  and  the  Bagbag.  And 
now,  beyond  Calumpit,  the  flower  of  Aguinaldo's  army 
was  massed  under  General  Luna,  north  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
A  network  of  strong  fortifications  lay  between  it  and  the 
river,  and  it  commanded  all  the  wide  water-front. 

As  the  soldiers  waited  orders  on  the  south  side  of  the 
river,  Doctor  Horace  Carey  left  his  work  and  sought 
out  Thaine's  company,  impelled  by  the  same  instinct  that 
once  turned  him  from  the  old  Sunflower  Trail  to  find  Vir 
ginia  Aydelot  lost  on  the  solitary  snow-covered  prairie 
beyond  Little  Wolf  Creek. 

"What's  before  you  now?"  the  doctor  asked,  as  he  and 
Thaine  sat  on  the  ground  together. 

"  The  Rio  Grande  now.  We  must  be  nearly  to  the  end 
if  we  rout  General  Luna  here,"  Thaine  replied. 

"  You've  stood  it  well.  I  guess  you  don't  need  me  after 
all,"  Carey  remarked. 

"I  always  need  you,  Doctor  Carey,"  Thaine  said  ear 
nestly.  "Never  more  than  now.  When  I  saw  Captain 
Clarke  wounded  and  carried  away  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Tulijan,  and  could  only  say  'Captain,  my  captain,'  I 
needed  you.  When  Captain  Elliot  was  killed,  I  needed 
you;  and  when  Captain  William  Watson  was  shot  and 
wouldn't  stay  dead  because  we  need  him  so,  and  when  Met- 
calf,  Bishop,  Agnew,  Glasgow,  Ramsey,  and  Martin,  and 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  327 

all  the  other  big-brained  fellows  do  big  things,  I  need  you 
again.  Life  is  a  great  game ;  I'm  glad  I'm  in  it." 

Horace  Carey  had  never  before  seen  Thaine's  bright  face 
so  alert  with  manly  power  and  beauty  and  thoughtfulness. 
War  had  hardened  him.  Danger  had  tried  him.  Human 
needs,  larger  than  battle  lines  alone  can  know,  had 
strengthened  him.  Vision  of  large  purposes  had  uplifted 
him.  As  he  stood  before  the  white-haired  physician  whom 
he  had  loved  from  earliest  memory,  Carey  murmured  to 
himself : 

"  Can  the  world  find  grander  soldiers  to  fight  its  bat 
tles  than  these  sun-browned  boys  from  our  old  Kansas 
prairies  ?  " 

"We  are  going  across  to  Luna's  stronghold  in  a  few 
minutes.  Watch  him  go  into  eclipse  before  Fred.  Funston. 
If  you  stand  right  here,  you'll  see  me  helping  at  the  job. 
Goodby,"  Thaine  declared,  and,  at  the  bugle  call,  fell  into 
his  place. 

Beyond  the  river  a  steady  fire  was  opened  on  the  Amer 
ican  forces,  and  no  bridge  nor  boat  was  there  by  which  to 
cross.  Doctor  Carey  stood  watching  the  situation  with  a 
strange  sense  of  unrest  in  his  mind. 

"  There  must  be  rafts,"  declared  Colonel  Funston. 

And  there  were  rafts,   hastily  made   of  bamboo  poles. 

"  Somebody  must  swim  across  and  fasten  a  cable  over 
there  by  which  to  tow  the  rafts  across.  Who  will  volun 
teer?  You  see  what's  before  you,"  Funston  asserted. 

Horace  Carey  saw  two  soldiers,  Corporal  Trembly  and 
Private  Edward  White,  seize  the  cable,  plunge  into  the 
river,  and  strike  out  directly  toward  the  farther  side  filled 
with  Filipino  forces.  Rifle  balls  split  the  water  about  them. 


328  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Bullet  after  bullet  cut  the  air  above  them.  Shot  after  shot 
from  the  ambushed  enemy  hurtled  toward  them.  The  two 
young  men  surged  steadily  ahead,  bent  only  on  reaching 
the  bank  and  fastening  the  cable.  They  knew  only  one 
word,  duty,  and  they  did  the  thing  they  had  agreed  to 
do.  Once  across  the  river,  they  ran  nimbly  up  the  bank 
and  made  fast  the  rope's  end,  while  cheer  after  cheer  rose 
from  their  comrades  watching  them,  and  the  battle  cry  of 
the  Fighting  Twentieth,  "Rock  Chalk,  Jay  Hawk,  K.  U.," 
went  pulsing  out  across  the  waters  of  the  Rio  Grande  as 
full  and  strong  as  in  the  days  when  it  rolled  out  on  the 
university  campus  on  far-away  Mount  Oread,  beside  the 
Kaw. 

The  rafts  sped  along  the  cable,  and  squad  after  squad 
went  pell  mell  into  General  Luna's  stronghold,  under  stub 
born  fire  from  the  frantic  rebels. 

Thaine  Aydelot  was  on  the  last  raft  to  cross  the  river. 
Doctor  Carey  watched  with  eager  gaze  as  the  last  men 
reached  the  farther  bank.  He  saw  them  scrambling  up 
from  the  water's  edge.  He  saw  Thaine  turn  back  to  lift 
up  a  comrade  blinded,  but  not  injured,  by  the  smoke  of  a 
gun.  He  saw  the  two  start  forward.  Then  the  faint 
"ping"  of  a  Mauser  came  to  his  ears,  and  Thaine  threw 
up  his  hands  and  fell  backward  into  the  water  and  sank 
from  sight,  while  the  other  soldiers,  unknowing,  rushed 
forward  into  battle. 

For  a  moment,  Horace  Carey  stood  like  a  statue,  then 
he  sprang  into  the  river  and  swam  against  the  fire  of  the 
hidden  foe  to  where  Thaine  Aydelot  had  disappeared.  Ten 
minutes  later,  while  Luna's  forces  were  trying  vainly  to 
resist  the  daring  Americans,  Thaine  Aydelot  lay  on  a  raft 


The  "Fighting  Twentieth"  329 

which  Carey,  with  a  Red  Cross  aid,  was  pulling  toward  the 
south  bank. 

When  the  Fighting  Twentieth  soldiers  were  relieved 
from  service,  and  turned  their  faces  gladly  toward  the 
Kansas  prairies,  whither  hundreds  of  proud  fathers  and 
mothers  and  wives  and  sweethearts  were  waiting  to  give 
eager,  happy  welcome,  Thaine  Aydelot  lay  hovering  be 
tween  life  and  death  in  the  hospital  at  Manila.  The 
white-haired  doctor  who  had  saved  him  from  the  waters  of 
the  Rio  Grande  watched  hourly  beside  him,  relying  not  so 
much  on  the  ministrations  of  his  calling  as  in  his  trust  in 
an  Infinite  Father,  through  whom  at  last  the  sick  may  be 
made  whole. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  CROOKED  TEAIL 

Life  may  be  given  in  many  ways, 
And  loyalty  to  truth  be  sealed 
As  bravely  in  the  closet  as  the  field. 

—LOWELL. 

"  TJERE'S  yo'  letter  from  the  Fillippians,  Mis'  Virginia; 
•*•  •*-  Mr.  Champers  done  bring  hit  for  you  all."  Boa 
nerges  Peeperville  fairly  danced  into  the  living  room  of  the 
Sunflower  Inn.  "They  ain't  no  black  mournin'  aidge 
bindin'  it  round  nuthah,  thank  the  good  Lawd  foh  that." 

Virginia  Aydelot  opened  the  letter  with  trembling  fin 
gers.  It  was  only  a  brief  page,  but  the  message  on  it  was 
big  with  comfort  for  her. 

"  It  is  from  Horace,"  she  said,  as  her  eyes  followed  the 
lines.  "  He  was  with  Thaine  when  he  wrote  it.  Thaine  is 
perfectly  well  again  and  busy  as  ever.  He  and  Horace 
seem  to  be  needed  over  there  yet  awhile.  Isn't  it  wonder 
ful  how  Thaine  ever  lived  through  that  dreadful  bullet 
wound  and  fever?" 

"I  jus'  wondeh  how  you  all  stand  up  undeh  such  'flic- 
tions.  Seems  to  me  a  motheh  done  wilt  down,  but  they 
don't.  Mothehs  is  the  bravest  things  they  is,"  Bo  Peep 
declared  with  a  broad  grin  of  admiration. 

"Oh,  we  get  schooled  to  it.  Asher's  mother  waited 
through  six  years  while  he  was  in  army  service ;  and  remem 
ber  how  long  I  waited  in  Virginia  for  him  to  come  back 
to  me!  I  wondered  at  the  test  of  my  endurance  then.  I 

330 


The  Crooked  Trail  331 

know  now  it  was  to  prepare  me  for  Thaine's  time  of  serv 
ice  for  his  country." 

"I  done  remember,  all  right,  'bout  that  time  in  ol'  Vir 
ginia,  an'  the  day  I  taken  you  the  letteh  up  in  the  little 
glen  behind  the  ol'  mansion  house  whah  hit  wah  so  cool 
and  the  watah's  so  cleah.  Misteh  Horace  wah  home  that 
day,  too.  Say,  Mis'  Virginia,  did  —  did  he  done  mention 
my  name  anywhar  in  that  letteh?" 

The  pathos  of  the  dark  face  was  pitiful. 

"  '  My  best  love  to  Bo  Peep.' ':  Virginia  pointed  to  the 
line  as  she  read. 

"Kin  I  please  have  this  huh  envelope?"  Bo  Peep 
pleaded,  and,  clutching  it  as  a  sacred  treasure,  he  said: 
"Mis'  Virginia,  didn't  I  done  tellen  you  Misteh  Thaine 
would  come  back  ?  " 

"How  did  you  know?"  Virginia  asked  with  shining 
eyes. 

"  Becuz  of  what  Doctoh  Horace  lef  for  me  to  tell  you. 
It  cain't  do  no  hahm  to  tell  hit  thus  fah." 

Bo  Peep  hesitated,  and  Virginia  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"  Doctor  Horace  won't  never  come  back.  I  tol'  you  that 
sufficiency  times.  When  he  lef,  he  say,  'Tel  Mis'  Vir 
ginia,  if  I  don't  come  back,  I'se  done  goin'  to  be  with 
Misteh  Thaine  an'  take  care  of  him,  'cause  I  love  the  boy, 
—  hit  cain't  do  no  hahm  to  tell  you  that  while  Misteh 
Horace  still  writen  to  us.  An'  didn't  he  tak'  care  of 
Misteh  Thaine?  Didn't  he  lef  his  place  an'  go  down  to 
that  Rigrand  Riveh,  an'  didn't  he  see  Misteh  Thaine  fall 
back  with  a  bullet  pushin'  him  right  into  the  watah?  Yes, 
an'  be  drownded  if  Doctoh  Horace  hadn't  done  swum 
right  then  and  fish  him  out.  An'  didn't  he  stay  night  time 


332  Winning  the  Wilderness 

an'  day  time  right  by  the  blessed  boy,  till  he's  pullin'  him 
out  of  dangeh  of  death's  wing?  Oh,  yo'  son  done  comin' 
back  'cause  Misteh  Horace  say  he  sho'  goin'  jus'  tak' 
care  of  him." 

"But,  Bo  Peep,  why  do  you  not  believe  we'll  have 
Horace  here  again  ?  "  Virginia  asked. 

The  black  man  only  shook  his  head  mournfully  as  he 
answered  determinedly,  "Ef  yo'  saves  a  life,  you  has  to 
give  one  for  hit,  mos'  eveh  time,  an'  mo'  specially  in  the 
Fillippians  whah  they's  so  murderful  and  slaughterous." 

"  Oh,  you  ought  not  think  that  way,"  Virginia  urged. 
"Run  quick,  now,  and  take  the  news  to  Asher.  I  don't 
know  where  he  is  this  morning." 

"  He's  talkin'  to  Mr.  Dahley  Champehs  out  to  the  barn," 
Bo  Peep  said  as  he  hurried  away. 

Asher  Aydelot  was  standing  before  the  big  barn  doors 
when  Darley  Champers  turned  from  the  main  road  and 
drove  into  the  barnyard.  It  was  a  delicious  April  morning, 
with  all  the  level  prairie  lands  smiling  back  at  the  skies 
above  them,  and  every  breath  of  the  morning  breeze  bear 
ing  new  vigor  and  inspiration  in  its  caressing  touch. 

"  Good  morning,  Champers ;  fine  morning  to  live,"  Asher 
called  out  cheerily. 

"  Mornin',  Aydelot ;  fine  day,  fine !  Miss  Shirley  told 
me  last  fall  she  got  her  first  inspiration  for  buyin'  a 
quarter  of  land  with  nothin'  and  faith,  and  makin'  it  pay 
for  itself,  out  of  one  of  Coburn's  Agricultural  Reports.  I 
reckon  if  a  book  like  that  could  inspire  a  woman,  they's 
plenty  in  a  mornin'  like  this  to  inspire  old  Satan  to  a 
more  uprighteous  line  of  goods  than  he  generally  carries. 
I  never  see  the  country  look  better.  Your  wheat  is  tre- 


The  Crooked  Trail 


mendous.  How's  the  country  look  to  you?"  Champers 
responded. 

"I  can  remember  when  it  looked  a  good  deal  worse," 
Asher  replied.  "  The  Coburn  Reports  must  have  helped  to 
turn  bare  prairie  and  weedy  boom  lots  into  harvest  fields." 

The  two  men  had  seated  themselves  on  the  sloping  drive 
way  before  the  barn  doors.  Asher  was  chewing  the  tender 
joint  of  a  spear  of  foxtail  grass,  and  Champers  had  lighted 
a  heavy  cigar. 

"  You  don't  smoke,  I  believe,"  he  said  cordially,  "  or  I'd 
insist  on  offering  the  mate." 

"No,  I  just  chew,"  Asher  replied,  as  he  bent  the  foxtail 
thoughtfully  in  his  fingers  and  looked  out  toward  the 
wheat  fields  already  rippling  like  waves  under  the  morning 
breeze. 

"  Say>  Aydelot,  do  you  remember  the  day  I  come  down 
this  valley  and  tried  my  danged  best  to  get  you  to  sell 
out  for  a  song?  I've  done  some  pretty  scaly  things,  all 
inside  the  letter  of  the  law,  since  then,  but  never  anything 
that's  stuck  in  my  craw  like  that.  I  guess  you  ain't  forgot 
it,  neither?" 

"I  remember  more  of  those  first  years  than  of  these 
later  ones,  and  I  haven't  forgotten  when  you  came  to  the 
Grass  River  schoolhouse  one  hot  Sunday  about  grass 
hopper  time,  but  I  don't  believe  anybody  holds  it  against 
you.  You  were  out  for  business  just  as  we  were,"  Asher 
replied  with  a  genial  smile. 

"  Say  !  D'recollect  what  you  said  to  me  when  I  invited 
you  to  cast  your  glims  over  this  very  country,  a  burnt-up 
old  prairie  that  day,  so  scorched  it  was  too  dry  and  hot  to 
cut  up  into  town  lots  for  an  addition  to  Hades?" 


334  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Asher  laughed  now. 

"No,  I  don't  remember  anything  about  that.  It  was 
just  the  general  line  of  events  that  stayed  with  me,"  he  said. 

"  Well,  I  do ;  and  I'll  never  forget  the  look  in  your  eyes 
when  you  said  it,  neither.  I'd  told  you,  as  I  say,  just  to 
look  at  this  God-forsaken  old  plain  and  tell  me  what  you 
see.  And  you  looked,  like  you  was  glimpsin'  heaven  a'most, 
and  just  said  sorter  solemn  like  an'  prophetic:  'I  see  a 
land  fair  as  the  Garden  of  Eden,  with  grazing  herds  on 
broad  meadows,  and  fields  on  fields  of  wheat,  and  groves  and 
little  lakes  and  rivers  —  a  land  of  comfortable  homes  and 
schoolhouses  and  churches,  and  no  saloons  nor  breweries.' 
And  then  I  broke  in  and  told  you  I  see  a  danged  fool,  and 
you  says,  *  Come  down  here  in  twenty-five  year  and  make 
a  hunt  for  me  then.'  And,  by  golly,  Aydelot,  here  I  am. 
You've  everlastingly  conquered  the  prairies  for  sure,  and 
you  are  a  young  man,  not  fifty-five  yet." 

"Well,  you  can  see  most  of  those  things  that  I  saw 
that  day  out  yonder,  can't  you?" 

Asher's  eyes  followed  the  waving  young  wheat  and  the 
blossoming  orchards,  the  grove,  full  of  birds'  songs,  and 
the  line  of  Grass  River  running  deeper  year  by  year.  Then 
he  looked  at  his  hard,  brown  hands  and  thought  of  the 
toil  and  faith  and  hope  that  had  gone  into  the  conquest. 

"Yes,  I'm  still  among  the  middle-aged,"  he  said, 
straightening  with  his  habitual  military  dignity  of  bearing. 
"But  I  don't  know  about  this  everlasting  conquest  of  the 
prairies.  There's  still  some  of  it  waiting  over  beyond  those 
headlands  in  the  open  range  where  John  Jacobs  has  a  big 
holding.  I'll  never  feel  that  I  have  conquered  until  my 
boy  proves  himself  in  civil  life  as  well  as  on  the  battle- 


The  Crooked  Trail  335 

field.  If  I  can  bring  him  back  when  he  is  through  with  the 
Orient,  then,  Darley  Champers,  I  will  have  done  something 
beside  subdue  the  soil.  Through  him,  I'll  keep  the  wilder 
ness  from  ever  getting  hold  again.  If  we  live  so  narrowly 
that  our  children  hate  the  lines  we  follow  and  will  not  go  on 
and  do  still  bigger  things  than  we  have  done,  do  we  really 
make  a  success  of  life?" 

At  that  moment  Bo  Peep  appeared  with  Doctor  Carey's 
letter,  and  the  subject  shifted  to  the  problems  of  the 
far  East. 

"We  aren't  the  only  people  who  are  having  trouble," 
Asher  said.  "  I  read  in  the  papers  that  the  Boxer  uprising 
that  began  in  southern  China  last  year  is  spreading  north 
ward  and  making  no  end  of  disturbance." 

"What's  them  Boxers  wantin'?  Are  they  a  band  of 
prize  ring  fellers  ?  "  Darley  Champers  asked. 

"  Pryor  Gaines  writes  Jim  Shirley  that  they  are  a  secret 
order  of  fanatics  bent  on  stamping  out  all  Christianity 
and  all  western  ideas  of  advancement  in  the  Orient.  Things 
begin  to  look  ugly  in  China,  even  from  this  distance. 
When  a  band  of  religious  fanatics  like  the  Boxers  go  on 
the  warpath,  their  atrocities  make  a  Cheyenne  raid  or  a 
Kiowa  massacre  look  like  a  football  game.  I  hope  Pryor 
will  not  be  in  their  line  of  march." 

"Pryor  Gaines'd  better  stayed  right  here.  It's  what's 
likely  to  happen  to  a  man  who  goes  missionarying  too  far, 
and  we  could  'a  used  him  here." 

It  was  an  unusual  concession  for  Darley  Champers  to 
make  regarding  the  church,  and  Asher  looked  keenly  at  him. 

"  Say,  Aydelot,"  Champers  said  suddenly,  "  you  have 
more  influence  with  John  Jacobs  'n  anybody  else,  I  know. 


336  Winning  the  Wilderness 

If  you  see  the  Jew,  pass  it  on  to  him  that  Wyker's  at  his 
old  cut-ups  again  over  in  Wykerton,  and  he's  danged 
bitter  against  Jacobs.  I  can  help  him  on  the  side  like 
I  did  before,  but  the  Jew's  got  hold  of  enough  over  there 
now  to  run  things,  with  ownin '  land  all  round  and  holdin ' 
mortgages  on  town  property  just  to  keep  joints  out  of 
'em.  I  do  no  end  of  business  for  Jacobs  now.  Never  had 
dealin's  with  a  straighter  man.  But  he'd  better  look  out 
for  Wyker.  The  Dutchman's  insides  is  all  green  with 
poison,  he's  hated  Jacobs  so  many  years." 

"  I  guess  John  will  make  it  hard  on  him  if  they  come  to 
blows  again.  The  jail  sentence  and  fine  Jacobs  fastened 
on  him  let  Wyker  down  easy.  John  Jacobs  is  one  of  the 
state's  big  men,"  Asher  responded. 

"  We  lost  another  big  man  when  we  let  Doc  Carey  go," 
Champers  went  on.  "I  used  to  set  up  nights  and  rest 
myself  hatin'  him.  He  done  the  biggest  missionary  work 
in  me  the  two  weeks  I  stayed  at  his  house  ever  was  done 
for  a  benighted  heathen.  I  hated  to  see  him  go."  The 
sadness  of  the  tone  was  genuine.  "But  I  mustn't  be 
hangin'  round  here  all  the  mornin';  I've  got  other  things 
to  do.  Hope  your  boy'll  keep  a-goin'  till  his  term's  out. 
Goodday!"  And  Champers  was  gone. 

"  Till  his  term's  out ! "  Asher  repeated  with  a  smile. 
"  Wouldn't  that  six-footer  of  a  soldier  boy,  whose  patriot 
ism  burns  like  a  furnace,  see  the  joke  to  that!  Till  he 
gets  his  stripes  off  and  forgets  the  lock-step !  My  Thaine, 
who  is  giving  a  young  man's  strength  of  body  and  inspira 
tion  of  soul  to  his  country's  service!  But  Carey  did  do 
a  missionary  work  in  Champers.  The  fellow  was  crooked 
enough  '  inside  the  law  always,'  as  he  said,  but  no  more  out 


The  Crooked  Trail  337 

of  line  than  scores  of  reputable  business  men  are  today. 
And  the  fact  that  he's  Jacobs'  agent  now  measures  the 
degree  of  trustworthiness  Carey  has  helped  to  waken 
in  him." 

Darley  Champers'  business  took  him  down  the  river  to 
the  Cloverdale  Ranch,  where  he  found  Leigh  Shirley  train 
ing  the  young  vines  up  the  trellis  by  the  west  porch. 

"You  got  a  mighty  pretty  place  here;  just  looks  like 
Jim  Shirley,"  Champers  declared  as  he  greeted  the  young 
gardener. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Jim  is  never  so  happy  as  when  he  is  putter 
ing  about  the  lawn  and  garden,"  Leigh  answered. 

"  How's  your  alfalfa  doin'  ? "  Champers  asked  as  he 
turned  toward  the  level  stretch  of  rich  green  alfalfa  fields. 
"Danged  money-maker  for  you,"  he  added  jovially. 

"We'll  clear  the  place  with  the  first  cutting  this  year 
It's  just  the  thing  for  Uncle  Jim,"  Leigh  asserted. 

"Yep,  Jim's  in  clover  —  alfalfa,  ruther.  You  had  a 
good  business  head  when  you  run  your  bluff  some  years 
ago,  an'  you  wan't  only  nineteen  then.  You  walked  into 
my  place  an'  jest  bought  that  land  on  sheer  bluff."  Cham 
pers  laughed  uproariously,  but  he  grew  sober  in  the  next 
minute. 

"Miss  Shirley,"  he  said  gravely,  "I  ain't  got  much 
style  nor  sentiment  in  my  makin's,  but  I've  honestly  tried 
to  be  humane  by  widders  an'  orphans.  I've  done  men  to 
keep  'em  from  doin'  me,  or  jest  'cause  they  was  danged 
easy,  but  I  never  wronged  no  woman,  not  even  my  wife, 
who  divorced  me  years  ago  back  East  'cause  I  wouldn't 
turn  my  old  mother  out  o'  doors,  but  kep'  her  and  pro 
vided  for  her  long  as  she  lived." 


338  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Nobody  in  Kansas  had  ever  heard  Darley  Champers 
mention  his  home  relations  before.  Leigh  looked  at  him 
gravely,  and  the  sympathy  in  her  deep  blue  eyes  was  grate 
ful  to  the  uncultured  man  before  her. 

"Miss  Shirley,  I  ain't  wantin'  to  meddle  none,  but  I 
come  down  here  to  ask  you  if  you  know  anything  about 
your  father?" 

Leigh  gave  a  start  and  stared  at  her  questioner,  but  her 
woman's  instinct  told  her  that  only  kindly  purpose  lay 
back  of  his  question. 

He  had  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  porch  and  Leigh 
stood  leaning  against  the  trellis,  clutching  the  narrow 
slats,  as  she  looked  at  him. 

"  I  think  he  is  dead,"  she  answered  slowly.  "  Uncle  Jim 
says  he  must  be.  He  was  a  bad  man,  made  bad  not 
by  blood  but  by  selfishness.  The  Shirleys  are  a  fine 
family." 

"  Excuse  me  for  sayin'  it,  Miss,  but  you  took  every  good 
trait  of  that  family,  an'  Nature  jest  shied  every  bad  trait 
as  far  from  you  as  it  took  the  sins  of  our  old  savage 
Anglo-Saxon  ancestors  off  of  our  heads;  them  that  used 
to  kill  an'  eat  their  neighborin'  tribes,  like  the  Filipinos, 
they  was.  Don't  never  forget  that  you're  a  Shirley  an' 
not  a  Tank.  Your  grandma's  name  was  Tank,  I've  been 
told." 

Leigh  made  no  response,  but  something  in  her  face  and 
in  the  poise  of  her  figure  bespoke  the  truth  of  Darley 
Champers'  words. 

"I  jest  come  down  to  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "that 
the  man  I  represented  when  I  sold  you  this  quarter,  he  rep 
resented  your  father,  Tank  Shirley,  and  Tank  got  it 


The  Crooked  Trail  339 

through  this  man  away  from  Jim  out  of  pure  hate.  I  sold 
it  back  to  you  out  of  pure  spite  to  Tank's  agent,  who 
was  naggin'  me.  If  your  father  is  dead,  there'd  ought 
to  be  somethin'  comin'  back,  as  the  money  you  paid  for 
the  land  would  help  you  some  if  we  could  get  it  back.  I 
come  as  a  friend.  I'm  kinder  in  Doc  Carey's  shoes  while 
he's  gone,  you  see.  You've  got  the  land  as  good  as  paid 
for.  It  will  be  clear,  you  say,  by  June.  Buyin'  it  of  your 
own  father,  if  there's  any  estate  left  of  him,  you'd  ought 
to  have  it.  Money's  always  a  handy  commodity,  an'  I'd 
like  to  see  you  git  what's  your'n  after  your  plucky  bluff 
and  winnin'.  You  could  use  it,  I  reckon?" 

"  We  need  it  very  much,"  Leigh  assured  him. 

"  Say,  would  you  mind  tellin'  me  if  you  find  out  any 
thing  about  your  father's  whereabouts  or  anything?" 
Champers  queried. 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  Leigh  replied,  "  but  will  you  tell  me  what 
you  know  about  him;  you  must  know  something?" 

It  was  Champers'  turn  to  start  now.  "  N-not  much ;  not 
as  much  as  I'm  goin'  to  know,  and  it's  not  for  my 
profit,  neither.  I  don't  make  money  out  of  women's  needs. 
I  never  made  a  cent  on  this  sale  to  you,  but  it  was  worth 
it  to  get  to  do  that  agent  once,"  Champers  declared. 

Leigh  waited  quietly. 

"  I'll  be  in  better  shape  inside  of  two  days  to  tell  you 
something  definite.  I  wish  Carey  was  here.  Do  you  know 
where  he  got  the  money  he  loaned  you  ?  " 

"I  never  asked  him,"  Leigh  answered. 

"He  borrowed  it  of  Miss  Jane  Aydelot  of  Cloverdale, 
Ohio." 

Champers  did  not  mean  to  be  brutal,  but  the  sharp  cry 


340  Winning  the  Wilderness 

of  pain  and  the  look  of  anguish  on  Leigh  Shirley's  face 
told  how  grievous  was  the  wound  his  words  had  made. 

"Why,  you  paid  it  all  back;  she  ain't  lost  nothin'. 
Besides,  I  heard  with  my  own  ears  folks  sayin'  she'd  always 
loved  you  and  it  was  a  pity  Jim  ever  took  you  away  from 
her.  She  might  'a  done  well  by  you,  they  said.  You  got  no 
wrong  due.  Lord  knows  you've  paid  it  conscientiously 
enough,"  Darley  Champers  insisted. 

"  Mr.  Champers,  will  you  be  sure  to  tell  me  all  you  know 
as  soon  as  possible?  Meantime,  I'll  try  to  find  out  some 
thing  to  tell  you." 

"I  sure  will.     Goodday  to  you." 

When  Champers  rose  to  leave,  Leigh  put  out  her  hand 
to  him,  and  the  winning  smile  that  made  all  Grass  River 
folk  love  her  as  they  loved  her  uncle  Jim  now  touched 
the  best  spot  in  the  heart  of  the  man  before  her. 

"  God  knows  it's  a  lot  better  to  do  for  folks  than  to  do 
'em,  and  in  the  end  I  believe  you  prosper  more  at  it.  My 
business,  except  the  infernal  boom  days,  never  was  so  good 
as  it's  been  since  I  had  that  time  with  Carey,  and  it's  all 
clean  business,  too,  not  a  smirch  on  it.  Wish  I  could 
forget  a  few  things  I've  did,  though."  So  Darley  Cham 
pers  thought,  as  he  drove  up  the  old  Grass  River  trail  in 
the  glory  of  the  April  morning. 

That  morning,  Leigh  Shirley  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Jane 
Aydelot  of  Cloverdale,  Ohio.  Leigh  had  written  many 
letters  to  her  before,  but  never  one  with  a  plea  like  this. 
Miss  Jane  had  mentally  grown  up  with  Leigh  and  had  built 
many  a  romance  about  her,  which  was  only  hinted  at  in  the 
letters  she  received. 

In  the  letter  of  this  morning,  Leigh  begged  for  all  the 


The  Crooked  Trail  341 

information  Miss  Jane  could  give  concerning  her  father, 
and  further,  she  pleaded  boldly  for  the  reconciliation  of  the 
Aydelot  family,  a  thing  she  had  never  written  of  before. 
Five  days  later  her  letter  came  back  "unclaimed"  with  a 
brief  statement  from  the  Cloverdale  postmaster  that  Miss 
Jane  Aydelot  had  passed  away  on  the  day  the  letter  was 
written,  much  beloved,  etc. 

John  Jacobs  had  no  need  to  be  warned  by  Asher  Aydelot 
of  Hans  Wyker's  doings.  He  knew  all  of  Wyker's  move 
ments  through  Rosie  Gimpke.  Jacobs  had  been  kind  to 
Rosie,  whose  bare,  loveless  life  knew  few  kindnesses,  and  she 
harbored  the  memory  of  a  good  deed  as  her  grandfather 
harbored  his  hatred.  Moreover,  the  Wyker  joint  had 
played  havoc  with  the  Gimpke  family.  Her  father  had 
died  from  a  fall  received  in  a  drunken  brawl  there.  Two 
brothers,  too  drunk  to  know  better,  had  driven  into  Little 
Wolf  in  a  spring  flood  and  been  drowned.  A  sister  had 
married  a  drinking  man  who  regularly  beat  her  in  his 
regular  sprees.  For  a  heavy-footed,  heavy-brained,  fat 
German  girl,  Rosie  Gimpke  could  get  into  action  with  sur 
prising  alacrity  for  the  safety  of  one  who  had  shown  her 
a  kindness. 

And  it  was  Rosie  Gimpke,  whom  John  Jacobs  called 
the  Wykerton  W.  C.  T.  U.,  who  swiftly  put  the  word  to 
him  that  her  grandfather  was  again  defying  the  law  and 
menacing  the  public  welfare. 

Unfortunately,  the  messenger  who  served  Rosie  in  this 
emergency  was  overtaken  by  Hans  and  forced  to  divulge 
his  mission,  threatened  with  dire  evils  if  he  said  a  word  to 
Rosie  about  Hans  having  halted  him,  and  urged  to  go  with 
all  haste  on  his  errand,  and  to  be  sure  of  the  reward,  a 


342  Winning  the  Wilderness 

ticket  to  the  coming  circus  and  two  dishes  of  ice  cream  from 
the  Wyker  eating  house,  as  per  Rosie's  promise. 

The  boy  hastened  from  the  grinning  Hans  and  did  his 
errand,  and  afterward  held  his  peace,  so  far  as  Rosie  was 
concerned.  But  he  stupidly  unloaded  his  message  and 
Hans'  interference  and  threats  to  John  Jacobs  as  an  out 
sider  whom  the  Wyker  family  rows  could  not  touch,  and 
had  another  dish  of  ice  cream  at  Jacobs'  expense. 

This  messenger  was  able,  for  he  brought  the  word  to 
Rosie  that  John  Jacobs  would  come  to  his  Little  Wolf 
ranch  the  next  day,  and  late  in  the  evening  drop  into 
Wykerton  unexpectedly,  where  he  knew  Rosie  would  give 
him  easy  access  to  the  "  blind  tiger  "  of  the  W}^ker  House. 
The  boy  carried  a  message  also  to  Darley  Champers  to 
meet  Jacobs  at  the  top  of  the  hill  above  Little  Wolf  where 
the  trail  with  the  scary  little  twist  wound  down  by  the 
opening  to  the  creek,  beyond  which  the  Gimpke  home  was 
hidden.  Then  Hans  Wyker,  with  threats  of  withholding 
the  circus  ticket  and  the  ice  cream,  was  told  both  messages 
just  as  they  had  been  given  to  him  for  Rosie  and  Cham 
pers.  Hans,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  hurried  out  of  Wyker 
ton  and  took  the  first  train  to  Kansas  City. 

All  this  happened  on  the  day  that  Darley  Champers  had 
made  his  trip  to  the  Cloverdale  Ranch.  The  fine  spring 
weather  of  the  morning  leaped  to  summer  heat  in  the 
afternoon,  as  often  happens  in  the  plains  country.  On 
the  next  day  the  heat  continued,  till  late  in  the  afternoon 
a  vicious  black  storm  cloud  swirled  suddenly  up  over  the 
edge  of  the  horizon,  defying  the  restraining  call  of  the 
three  headlands  to  sheer  off  to  the  south,  as  storms  usually 
sheered,  and  burst  in  fury  on  the  Grass  River  Valley, 


The  Crooked  Trail  343 

extending   east  and   north  until  the  whole  basin   drained 
by  Big  Wolf  was  threshed  with  a  cyclone's  anger. 

Darley  Champers  sat  half  asleep  in  his  office  on  the 
afternoon  of  this  day.  His  coat  and  vest  were  flung  on  a 
chair,  his  collar  was  on  the  floor  under  the  desk,  his  sleeves 
were  rolled  above  his  elbows.  The  heat  affected  his  big 
bulky  frame  grievously.  The  front  door  was  closed  to  keep 
out  the  afternoon  glare,  but  the  rear  door,  showing  the 
roomy  back  yard,  was  wide  open,  letting  in  whatever  cool 
air  might  wander  that  way. 

Darley  was  half  conscious  of  somebody's  presence  as  he 
dozed.  He  dreamed  a  minute  or  two,  then  suddenly  his 
eyes  snapped  open  just  in  time  to  see  Thomas  Smith 
entering  through  the  rear  doorway. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  The  voice  was  between  a  whine  and 
a  snarl. 

Champers  stared  and  said  nothing. 

"It's  too  hot  to  be  comfortable,"  Smith  said,  seating 
himself  opposite  Champers,  "but  you're  looking  well." 

"  You're  not,"  Champers  thought. 

Thomas  Smith  was  not  looking  well.  Every  mark  of 
the  down-hill  road  was  on  him,  to  the  last  and  surest  mark 
of  poverty.  The  hang-dog  expression  of  the  face  with 
its  close-set  eyes  and  crooked  scar  above  them  showed  how 
far  the  evil  life  had  robbed  the  man  of  power. 

"  I  got  in  here  yesterday  morning,  and  you  went  out  of 
town  right  away,"  Smith  began. 

"Yes,  I  seen  you,  and  left  immediately,"  Champers 
replied. 

"Why  do  you  dodge  me?  Is  it  because  you  know  I  can 
throw  you?  Or  is  it  because  I  got  full  here  once  and  beat 


344  Winning  the  Wilderness 

you  up  a  bit  over  in  Wyker's  place  ? "  Smith  asked 
smoothly,  but  with  something  cruel  leaping  up  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  dodge  you.  I  had  business  to  see  to  and  I  hur 
ried  to  it,  so  I  wouldn't  miss  you  this  afternoon,"  Champers 
declared.  "What  do  you  want  now?" 

"  Money,  and  I'm  going  to  have  it,"  Smith  declared. 

"  Go  get  it,  then ! "  Champers  said  coolly. 

"  You  go  get  it  for  me,  and  go  quick,"  Smith  responded. 
"  I'm  in  a  bad  fix,  I  needn't  tell  you.  I've  got  to  have 
money ;  it's  what  I  live  for." 

"I  believe  you.  It's  all  you  ever  did  live  for,  and  if-s 
brought  you  where  it'll  bring  any  man  danged  soon  enough 
who  lives  for  it  that  way,"  Champers  asserted. 

"Since  when  did  you  join  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Association?"  Smith  asked  blandly. 

"  Since  day  before  yesterday." 

In  spite  of  himself,  Darley  Champers  felt  his  face  flush 
deeply.  He  had  just  responded  to  a  solicitation  from  that 
organization,  assuring  the  solicitors  that  he  "done  it  as  a 
business  man  and  not  that  he  was  any  prayer  meetin' 
exhorter,  but  the  dollars  was  all  cleaner'n  a  millionaire's, 
anyhow." 

"I  thought  so,"  Smith  went  on.  "Well,  briefly,  you 
have  a  good  many  things  to  keep  covered,  you  know,  and, 
likewise,  so  have  your  friends,  the  Shirleys.  The  girl  paid 
about  all  the  mortgage  on  that  ranch,  I  find." 

Darley  Champers  threw  up  his  big  hand. 

"  Don't  bring  her  name  IT?  here,"  he  demanded  savagely. 

"Oh,  are  you  soft  that  way?"  The  sneer  in  the  allu 
sion  was  contemptible.  "All  the  better;  you  will  get  me 
some  money  right  away.  Why,  I  haven't  let  you  favor  me 


The  Crooked  Trail  345 

in  a  long  time.     You'll  be  glad  to  do  it  now.    Let  me  show 
you  exactly  how." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  the  two  looked  steadily  at 
each  other,  each  seeming  sure  of  his  ground. 

"You  will  go  to  these  Shirleys,"  Smith  continued,  all 
the  hate  of  years  making  the  name  bitter  to  him,  "and 
you'll  arrange  that  they  mortgage  up  again  right  away, 
and  you  bring  me  the  money.  They  can  easy  get  three 
thousand  on  that  ranch  now,  it's  so  well  set  to  alfalfa. 
Nothing  else  will  do  but  just  that." 

"And  if  I  don't  go?"  Darley  Champers  asked. 

"  Oh,  you'll  go.  You  don't  want  this  Y.  M.  C.  A.  crowd 
to  know  all  I  can  tell.  No,  you  don't.  And  Jim  Shirley 
and  that  girl  Leigh  don't  want  me  to  publish  all  I  know 
about  the  father  and  brother,  Tank.  It  might  be  hard  on 
both  of  'em.  Oh,  I've  got  you  all  there.  You  can't  get 
away  from  me  and  think  because  I'm  hard  up  I  have  lost 
my  grip  on  you.  I'll  never  do  that.  I  can  disgrace  you 
all  so  Grass  River  wouldn't  wash  your  names  clean  again. 
So  run  along.  You  and  the  Shirleys  will  do  as  I  say.  You 
don't  dare  not  to.  And  this  pretty  Leigh,  such  a  gross 
old  creature  as  you  are  fond  of,  she  can  work  herself  to 
skin  and  bone  to  pay  off  another  mortgage  to  help  Jim. 
Poor  fellow  can't  work  like  most  men,  big  as  he  is.  I 
remember  when  he  got  started  wrong  in  his  lungs  back  in 
Ohio  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  blamed  Tank  for  shutting 
him  out  in  the  cold  one  night,  or  something  like  it.  That 
give  him  his  start.  He  always  blamed  Tank  for  every 
thing.  Why,  he  and  Tank  had  a  fight  the  last  time  they 
were  together,  and  he  nearly  broke  his  brother's  arm  off  —  " 
"  Oh,  shut  up,"  Champers  snapped  out. 


346  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"Well,  be  active.  I'll  give  you  till  tomorrow  night; 
that's  ample,"  Smith  snapped  back.  "  Hans  and  you  are 
all  the  people  in  town  who  know  I'm  here  now  except  the  fat 
woman  who  waits  on  the  table  at  Wyker's.  I'm  lying  low 
right  now,  but  I  won't  stay  hid  long;  Wyker'll  keep  me 
over  one  more  day,  I  reckon.  Even  he's  turned  against 
me  when  I've  got  no  money  to  loan  him,  but  I'll  be  on 
my  feet  again." 

"  Say,  Smith,  come  in  tomorrow  night,  but  don't  hurry 
away  now."  The  big  man's  tone  was  too  level  to  show 
which  way  his  meaning  ran.  "  I'd  like  to  go  into  matters 
a  little  with  you." 

Smith  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  waited  with  the  air 
of  one  not  to  be  coaxed. 

"  You  are  right  in  sayin'  I'd  like  to  hide  some  transac 
tions.  Not  many  real  estate  men  went  through  the  boom 
days  here  who  don't  need  to  feel  that  way.  We  was  all 
property  mad,  and  }rou  and  me  and  Wyker  run  our  bluff 
same  as  any  of  'em,  an'  we  busted  the  spirit  of  the  law  to 
flinders.  And  our  givin'  and  gettin'  deeds  and  our  buyin' 
tax  titles  an'  forty  things  we  done,  was  so  irregular  it 
might  or  mightn't  stand  in  court  now,  dependin'  altogether 
on  how  good  a  lawyer  for  technicalities  we  was  able  to 
employ.  We  know'd  the  game  we  was  playin',  too,  and 
excused  ourselves,  thinkin'  the  Lord  wouldn't  find  us  special 
among  so  many  qualified  for  the  same  game.  Smith,  I 
know  danged  well  I'm  not  so  'shamed  of  that  as  I  should  be. 
The  thing  that  hurts  me  wouldn't  be  cards  for  you  at  all. 
It's  the  brutal,  inhumane  things  no  law  can  touch  me  for; 
it's  trying  to  do  honest  men  out'n  their  freeholds;  it's 
holdin'  back  them  grasshopper  sufferer  supplies,  an'  havin' 


The  Crooked  Trail  347 

the  very  men  I  robbed  treatin'  rne  like  a  gentleman  now, 
that's  cutting  my  rhinoceros  hide  into  strips  and  hangin' 
it  on  the  fence.  But  you  can't  capitalize  a  thing  like  that 
in  your  business." 

"  Well,  I  know  what  I  can  do." 

"As  to  what  you  can  do  to  me,  you've  run  that  bluff 
till  it's  slick  on  the  track.  And  I've  know'd  it  just  as  long 
as  you  have,  anyhow.  Here's  my  particular  stunt  with 
you.  I  had  business  East  in  '96,  time  of  the  big  May  flood, 
and  I  run  down  to  Cloverdale,  Ohio,  for  a  day.  The  waters 
was  up  higher'n  they'd  been  know'd  for  some  years." 

Thomas  Smith  had  stiffened  in  his  chair  and  sat  rigidly 
gripping  the  arms.  But  Champers  seemed  not  to  notice 
this  as  he  continued: 

"  The  fill  where  the  railroad  cuts  acrost  the  old  Aydelot 
farm  was  washed  out  and  kep'  down  the  back  water  from 
floodin'  the  low  ground.  But  naturally  it  washed  out 
considerable  right  there." 

Smith's  face  was  deadly  pale  now,  with  the  crooked  scar 
a  livid  streak  across  his  forehead.  Champers  deliberated 
before  he  went  on.  All  his  blustering  method  disappeared 
and  he  kept  to  the  even  tone  and  unruffled  demeanor. 

"The  danged  little  crick  t'other  side  of  town  got  ram 
pageous  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  whole  crowd  that 
had  watched  Clover  Crick  all  day  went  pellmellin'  off  to  see 
new  sights,  leavin'  me  entirely  alone  by  the  washout.  I 
remember  what  you  said  about  pretendin'  to  commit  your 
self  to  your  Maker  there  in  an  agreement  between  you 
as  cashier  an'  Tank  Shirley,  an'  the  place  interested  me 
a  lot." 

A  finer-fibred  man  could  hardly  have  resisted  the  agon- 


348  Winning  the  Wilderness 

ized  face  of  Thomas  Smith.     A  cowardly   nature  would 
have  feared  the  anger  back  of  it. 

"  It  was  gettin'  late  and  pretty  cloudy  still,  and  nobody 
by,  an'  I  staid  round,  an'  staid  round,  when  just  at  the 
right  place  the  bank  broke  away  and  I  see  the  body  of  a 
man  —  just  the  skeleton  mainly,  right  where  you  didn't 
commit  your  pretended  suicide.  Somebody  committed  it 
there  for  you  evidently.  There  was  only  a  few  marks  of 
identification,  a  big  set  ring  with  a  jagged  break  in  the  set 
that  swiped  too  swift  acrost  a  man's  face  might  leave  a 
ugly  scar  for  life,  and  if  the  fellow  tried  too  hard  to  drown 
hisself  he  might  wrench  a  man's  right  arm  so  out  o'  plum 
he  couldn't  never  do  much  signin'  his  name  again.  I  dis 
posed  of  the  remains  decent  as  I  could,  for  Doc  Carey  was 
leisurely  coming  down  National  pike  from  Jane  Aydelot's, 
an'  it  was  gettin'  late,  an'  no  cheerful  place  nor  job  in  a 
crowd  in  sunshiny  weather,  let  alone  there  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening.  Wow !  I  dreamt  of  that  there  gruesome  thing 
two  weeks.  I  throwed  the  shovel  in  the  crick.  Would 
you  like  me  to  show  you  where  to  go  to  dig,  so's  you  can 
be  sure  your  plan  with  Tank  Shirley  worked  and  you  didn't 
drown,  after  all?  And  are  you  sure  you  ain't  been  misrep 
resenting  things  to  me  a  little  as  agent  for  Tank  Shirley? 
Are  you  right  sure  you  ain't  Tank  Shirley  himself? 
I've  kep'  still  for  four  years,  not  to  save  you  nor  myself, 
but  to  keep  Leigh  Shirley's  name  from  bein'  dragged  into 
court  'longside  a  name  like  yours  or  mine.  I  never  misuse 
the  women,  no  matter  how  tricky  I  am  with  men." 
Then,  as  an  afterthought,  Champers  added: 
"It's  so  danged  hot  this  afternoon  I  can't  get  over  to 
Grass  River;  and  I  got  word  to  meet  Jacobs  over  at  the 


The  Crooked  Trail  349 

Little  Wolf  Ranch  later,  so  I  think  I'll  take  the  crooked 
trail  up  to  that  place;  it's  a  lot  the  coolest  road,  and  I'll 
wait  till  the  sun's  most  down.  I  guess  that  three  thousand 
dollar  mortgage  can  wait  over  a  day  now,  less  you  feel  too 
cramped." 

Thomas  Smith  rose  from  his  chair.  His  face  was  ashy 
and  his  small  black  eyes  burned  with  a  wicked  fire.  He 
gave  one  long,  steady  look  into  Champers'  face  and  slipped 
from  the  rear  door  like  a  shadow. 

Darley  Champers  knew  he  had  won  the  day,  and  no  sense 
of  personal  danger  had  ever  troubled  him.  He  settled  back 
in  his  chair,  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief,  and  soon  snored 
comfortably  through  his  afternoon's  nap. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  quite  dark,  for  the  storm  cloud 
covered  the  sky  and  the  hot  breath  from  the  west  was  like 
the  air  from  a  furnace  mouth. 

"  It's  not  late,  but  it's  danged  hot.  I  wonder  why  that 
Jew  wanted  me  to  meet  him  over  there.  Couldn't  he  have 
come  here?  I'm  wet  with  sweat  now.  How'll  I  be  by  the 
time  I  get  out  to  that  ranch?"  Champers  stretched  his 
limbs  and  mopped  his  hot  neck  with  his  handkerchief.  "  I 
reckon  I'd  better  go,  though.  Jacobs  always  knows  why  he 
wants  a  thing.  And  he's  the  finest  man  ever  came  out  of 
Jewey.  With  him  in  town  and  Asher  Aydelot  on  a  farm, 
no  city  nor  rural  communities  could  be  more  blessed." 

Then  he  remembered  Thomas  Smith  and  a  cold  shiver 
seized  his  big,  perspiring  body. 

"  I  wonder  why  I  dread  to  go,"  he  said,  half  aloud. 
"  The  creek  trail  will  be  cool,  but,  golly,  I'm  danged  cold 
right  now." 

Again  his  mind  ran  to  Smith's  face  as  he  had  seen  it 


350  Winning  the  Wilderness 

last.  He  put  on  his  hat  and  started  to  take  his  long 
raincoat  off  the  hook  behind  the  rear  door. 

"  Reckon  I'd  better  take  it.  It  looks  like  storming,"  he 
muttered.  "  Hello !  What  the  devil ! " 

For  Rosie  Gimpke,  with  blazing  cheeks  and  hair  dripping 
with  perspiration,  was  hidden  behind  the  coat. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Champers,  go  queek  and  find  Yon  Yacob,  but 
don't  go  the  creek  roat.  I  coom  slippin'  to  tell  you  to  go 
sure,  and  I  hit  when  that  strange  man  coom  slippin'  in. 
I  hear  all  you  say,  an'  I  see  him  troo  der  crack  here,  an'  he 
stant  out  there  a  long  time  looking  back  in  here.  So  I 
half  to  wait  an'  you  go  nappin'  an'  I  still  wait.  I  wait  to 
say,  hurry,  but  don't  go  oop  nor  down  der  creek  trail.  I  do 
anything  for  Miss  Shirley,  an'  I  like  you  for  takin'  care 
off  her  goot  name ;  goot  names  iss  hardt  to  get  back  if  dey 
gets  avay.  Hurry." 

"  Heaven  bless  your  good  soul ! "  Champers  said  heartily. 
"  But  why  not  take  the  cool  road  ?  I've  overslept  and  I've 
got  to  hurry  and  the  storm's  hustling  in." 

"Don't,  please  don't  take  it,"  Rosie  begged. 

The  next  minute  she  was  gone  and  as  Champers  closed 
and  locked  his  doors  he  said  to  himself,  "  She  does  her  work 
like  a  hero  and  never  will  have  any  credit  for  it,  'cause  she's 
not  a  pioneer  nor  a  soldier.  But  she  has  saved  more  than 
one  poor  fellow  snared  into  that  joint  I  winked  at  for 
years." 

Then,  obedient  to  her  urging,  he  followed  the  longer, 
hotter  road  toward  the  Jacobs'  stock  ranch  bordering  on 
Little  Wolf  Creek. 

Meantime,  John  Jacobs  inspected  his  property,  forgetful 
of  the  intense  heat  and  the  coming  storm,  his  mind  full  of 


The  Crooked  Trail  351 

a  strange  foreboding.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  above  where 
the  road  wound  down  through  deep  shadows  he  sat  a  long 
while  on  his  horse.  "  I  wonder  what  makes  me  so  lonely 
this  evening,"  he  mused.  "I'm  not  of  a  lonely  nature, 
nor  morose,  thank  the  Lord !  There's  no  telling  why  we  do 
or  don't  want  to  do  things.  I  wonder  where  Champers  is. 
He  ought  to  be  coming  up  pretty  soon.  I  wonder  if  I 
hadn't  had  that  dream  two  nights  ago  about  that  picture 
I  saw  in  a  book,  when  I  was  a  little  chap,  if  I'd  had  this 
fool's  cowardice  about  being  out  here  alone  today.  And 
what  was  it  that  made  me  look  over  all  those  papers  in  my 
vault  box  last  night?  I  have  helped  Carey ville  some,  and 
the  library  I  built  will  have  a  good  endowment  when  I'm 
gone,  and  so  will  the  children's  park,  and  the  Temperance 
Societies.  Maybe  I've  not  lived  in  vain,  if  I  have  been  an 
exacting  Jew.  I  never  asked  for  the  blood  in  my  pound  of 
flesh,  anyhow.  I  wonder  where  Champers  can  be." 

He  listened  intently  and  thought  he  heard  someone  com 
ing  around  the  bend  down  the  darkening  way. 

"  That's  he,  I  guess,  now,"  he  said. 

Then  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  wide  prairie  unrolling 
to  the  westward.  Overhanging  it  were  writhing  clouds, 
hurled  hither  and  thither,  twisted,  frayed,  and  burst  asunder 
by  the  titanic  forces  of  the  upper  air,  and  all  converging 
with  centripetal  violence  toward  one  vast  maelstrom.  Its 
long,  funnel-shaped  form  dipped  and  lifted,  trailing  back 
and  forth  like  some  sensate  thing.  With  it  came  an  increas 
ing  roar  from  the  clashing  of  timber  up  the  valley.  The 
vivid  shafts  of  lightning  and  the  blackness  that  followed 
them  made  the  scene  terrific  with  Nature's  majestic  madness. 

"I  must  get  shelter  somewhere,"  Jacobs  said.     "I  am 


352  Winning  the  Wilderness 

sorry  Champers  failed  me.  I  wanted  his  counsel  before  I 
slipped  up  on  Wyker  tonight.  I  thought  I  heard  him 
coming  just  now.  Maybe  he's  waiting  for  me  under  cover. 
I'll  go  down  and  see." 

The  roar  of  the  cyclone  grew  louder  and  the  long  swing 
ing  funnel  lifted  and  dipped  and  lifted  again,  as  the  awful 
forces  of  the  air  hurled  it  onward. 

Down  at  the  sharp  bend  in  the  road  Thomas  Smith  was 
crouching,  just  where  the  rift  in  the  bank  opened  to  the 
creek,  and  the  face  of  the  man  was  not  good  to  look  upon 
nor  to  remember. 

"  I'll  show  Darley  Champers  how  well  my  left  hand 
works.  There'll  be  no  telltale  scar  left  on  his  face  when 
I'm  through,  and  he  can  tumble  right  straight  down  to 
the  water  from  here  and  on  to  hell,  and  Wyker's  joint  may 
bear  the  blame.  Damned  old  Dutchmaji,  to  turn  me  out 
now.  I  set  him  up  in  business  when  I  had  money.  Here 
comes  Champers  now." 

The  storm-cloud  burst  upon  the  hill  at  that  moment. 
John  Jacobs'  horse  leaped  forward  on  the  steep  slope,  slid, 
and  fell  to  its  knees.  As  it  sprang  up  again  the  two  men 
could  not  see  each  other,  for  a  flash  of  lightning  blinded 
them  and  in  the  crash  of  thunder  that  burst  at  the  same 
instant,  filling  the  valley  with  deafening  roar,  the  sharp 
report  of  a  double  pistol-shot  was  swallowed  up. 

An  hour  later  Darley  Champers,  drenched  with  rain, 
stumbled  down  the  crooked  trail  in  the  semi-darkness.  The 
cool  air  came  fanning  out  of  the  west  and  a  faint  rift  along 
the  horizon  line  gave  promise  of  a  glorious  April  sunset. 

As  Darley  reached  the  twist  in  the  trail  which  John 


The  Crooked  Trail  353 

Jacobs  always  dreaded,  the  place  Thaine  Aydelot  and  Leigh 
Shirley  had  invested  with  sweet  memories,  he  suddenly  drew 
his  rein  and  stared  in  horror. 

Lying  in  the  rift  with  his  head  toward  the  deep  waters 
of  Little  Wolf  Creek  lay  Thomas  Smith,  scowling  with 
unseeing  eyes  at  the  fast  clearing  sky.  While  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  road  lay  the  still  form  of  John  Jacobs,  rain- 
beaten  and  smeared  with  mud,  as  if  he  had  struggled  back 
ward  in  his  death-throes. 

As  Champers  bent  tenderly  over  him,  the  smile  on  his 
lips  took  away  the  awfulness  of  the  sight,  and  the  serenity 
of  the  rain-drenched  face  rested  as  visible  token  of  an 
abundant  entrance  into  eternal  peace. 

Grass  River  and  Big  Wolf  settlements  had  never  before 
known  a  tragedy  so  appalling  as  the  assassination  of  John 
Jacobs  at  the  hands  of  an  "  unknown  "  man.  Hans  Wyker 
had  gone  to  Kansas  City  on  the  day  before  the  event  and 
Wykerton  never  saw  his  face  again.  Rosie  Gimpke,  who 
did  not  know  the  stranger's  name,  and  Darley  Champers, 
who  thought  he  did,  believed  nothing  could  be  gained  by 
talking,  so  they  held  their  peace.  And  Thomas  Smith  went 
"unknown"  back  to  the  dust  of  the  prairie  in  the  Grass 
River  graveyard. 

The  coroner  tried  faithfully  to  locate  the  blame.  But  as 
Jacobs  was  unarmed  and  was  shot  from  the  front,  and  the 
stranger  had  only  one  bullet  in  his  revolver  and  was  shot 
from  behind,  and  as  nobody  lost  nor  gained  by  not  un 
tangling  the  mystery,  the  affair  after  a  nine  days'  complete 
.threshing,  went  into  local  history,  the  place  of  sepulchre. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JANE  AYDELOT'S  WILL 

Impulsive,   earnest,   prompt   to   act, 
And  make  her  generous  thought  a  fact, 
Keeping  with  many  a  light  disguise 
The  secret  of  self-sacrifice, 
O  heart  sore-tried !  thou  hast  the  best 
That  Heaven  itself  could  give  thee— rest. 

—  SNOW  BOUND. 

DARLEY  CHAMPERS  sat  in  his  little  office  absorbed 
in  business.  The  May  morning  was  ideal.  Through 
the  front  door  the  sounds  of  the  street  drifted  in.  Through 
the  rear  door  the  roomy  backyard,  which  was  Champers' 
one  domestic  pleasure,  sent  in  an  odor  of  white  lilac.  By  all 
the  rules  Champers  should  have  preferred  hollyhocks  and 
red  peonies,  if  he  had  cared  for  flowers  at  all.  It  was  for 
the  memory  of  the  old  mother,  whom  he  would  not  turn 
adrift  to  please  a  frivolous  wife,  that  he  grew  the  white 
blossoms  she  had  loved.  But  as  he  never  spoke  of  her, 
nor  seemed  to  see  any  other  flowers,  nobody  noticed  the 
peculiarity. 

"I  wonder  how  I  missed  that  mail?"  he  mused,  as  he 
turned  a  foreign  envelope  in  his  hands.  "  I  reckon  the  sight 
of  that  poor  devil,  Smith,  dropping  into  town  so  suddenly 
five  days  ago  upset  me  so  I  forgot  my  mail  and  went  to 
see  the  Shirleys.  And  the  hot  afternoon  and  Smith's  com 
ing  in  here,  and  — "  Darley  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
sighed. 

354 


Jane  Aydelot's  Will  355 

"Poor  Jacobs!  Why  should  he  be  taken?  Smith  was 
gunning  for  me  and  mistook  his  man.  Lord  knows  I 
wasn't  fit  to  go." 

He  leaned  his  elbow  heavily  on  the  table,  resting  his  head 
on  his  hand. 

"  If  Jacobs  went  on  in  my  place,  sacrificed  for  my  sins, 
so  help  me  God,  I'll  carry  on  his  work  here.  I'll  fight  the 
liquor  business  to  the  end  of  my  days.  There  shan't  no 
joint  nor  doggery  never  open  a  door  on  Big  Wolf  no  more. 
I'll  do  a  man's  part  for  the  world  I've  been  doin'  for  my 
own  profit  most  of  my  life." 

His  brow  cleared,  and  a  new  expression  came  to  the  bluff 
countenance.  The  humaneness  within  him  was  doing  its 
perfect  work. 

"But  about  this  mail,  now."  He  took  up  the  letter 
again.  "Carey  says  he  ain't  coming  back.  Him  and 
young  Aydelot's  dead  sure  to  go  to  China  soon.  An'  I'm  to 
handle  his  business  as  per  previous  directions.  This  is  the 
first  of  it.  Somebody  puttin'  on  mournin'  style,  I  reckon." 

Champers  took  up  a  black-edged  envelope,  whose  con 
tents  told  him  as  Dr.  Horace  Carey's  representative  that 
Miss  Jane  Aydelot  of  Cloverdale  was  no  longer  living  and 
much  more  as  unnecessary  to  the  business  of  the  moment 
as  a  black-bordered  envelope  is  unnecessary  to  the  busi 
ness  of  life.  Then  he  opened  a  drawer  in  his  small  office 
safe  and  took  out  a  bundle  of  letters. 

"  Here's  a  copy  of  her  will.  That's  to  go  to  Miss  Shir 
ley  to  read.  An'  a  copy  of  old  Francis  Aydelot's  will. 
What's  the  value  of  that,  d'  you  reckon?  Also  to  be 
showed  to  Miss  Leigh  Shirley.  An'  here's  —  what?" 

Darley  Champers  opened  the  last  envelope  and  began  to 


356  Winning  the  Wilderness 

read.  He  stopped  suddenly  and  gave  a  long  surprised 
whistle. 

Beautiful  as  the  morning  was,  the  man  laid  down  the 
papers,  carefully  locked  both  doors  and  drew  down  the 
front  blinds.  He  took  up  the  envelope  and  read  its  con 
tents.  He  read  them  a  second  time.  Then  he  put  down 
the  neatly  written  pages  and  sat  staring  at  nothing  for  a 
long  time.  He  took  them  up  at  length  for  a  third  reading. 

"Everything  comes  out  at  last,"  he  murmured.  "Oh, 
Lord,  I'm  glad  Doc  Carey  got  hold  of  me  when  he  did." 

Slowly  he  ran  his  eyes  down  the  lines  as  he  read  in  a 
half  whisper : 


I  was  walking  down  the  National  pike  road  toward  Cloverdale 
with  little  Leigh  in  the  twilight.  Where  the  railroad  crosses 
Clover  Creek  on  the  high  fill  we  saw  Tank  Shirley  and  the  young 
cashier,  Terrence  Smalley,  who  had  disappeared  after  the  bank 
failure.  It  seems  Tank  had  promised  to  pay  Smalley  to  stay 
away  and  to  find  Jim  and  get  his  property  away  from  him.  Evi 
dently  Tank  had  not  kept  his  word,  for  they  were  quarreling  and 
came  to  blows  until  the  cashier's  face  was  cut  and  bleeding  above 
the  eye.  There  was  a  struggle,  and  one  pushed  the  other  over  the 
bank  into  the  deep  water  there.  Little  as  Leigh  was,  she  knew 
one  of  the  men  was  her  father,  and  we  thought  he  had  pushed 
Smalley  into  the  creek.  He  had  a  sort  of  paralyzed  arm  and 
could  not  swim.  I  tried  to  make  her  forget  all  about  it.  I  prom 
ised  her  my  home  and  farm  some  day  if  she  would  never  tell  what 
she  had  seen.  She  shut  her  lips,  but  if  she  forgot,  I  cannot  tell. 

That  night  I  went  alone  to  the  fill  and  found  Terrence  Smalley 
with  a  cut  face  and  a  twisted  shoulder  lying  above  the  place 
where  Tank  went  down.  I  helped  him  to  my  home  and  dressed 
his  wounds.  I  may  have  done  wrong  not  to  deliver  him  to  the 
authorities,  but  he  had  a  bad  story  to  tell  of  Tank's  bank  record 
that  would  have  disgraced  the  Shirley  family  in  Ohio,  so  we  made 
an  agreement.  He  would  never  make  himself  known  to  Leigh, 
nor  in  any  way  disturb  her  life  nor  reveal  anything  of  her 
father's  life  to  disgrace  her  name,  if  I  let  him  go.  And  I  agreed 
not  to  report  what  I  had  seen,  nor  to  tell  what  I  knew  to  his 
hurt.  He  promised  me  also  never  to  show  his  face  in  Cloverdale 


Jane  Aydelot's  Will  357 

again.  He  was  a  selfish,  dishonest  man,  who  used  Tank  Shirley's 
hatred  of  his  brother  and  his  other  sins  to  hide  his  own  wrong 
doing.  But  I  tried  to  do  my  duty  by  the  innocent  ones  who  must 
suffer,  when  I  turned  him  loose  with  his  conscience.  I  do  not 
know  what  has  become  of  him,  but,  so  far  as  I  do  know,  he  has 
kept  the  secret  of  Tank  Shirley's  crooked  dealing  with  the  Clover- 
dale  bank,  and  he  has  never  annoyed  Leigh,  nor  brought  any 
disgrace  to  her  name.  This  statement  duly  witnessed,  etc. 

Slowly  Darley  Champers  read.  Then,  laying  down  the 
pages,  he  said  as  slowly :  "  '  Unknown '  in  the  Grass  River 
graveyard.  'Unknown'  to  Jim  Shirley  and  Asher  Ayde- 
lot,  whose  eyes  he'd  never  let  see  him.  I  understand  now, 
why.  Known  to  me  as  Thomas  Smith,  an  escaped  defaultin' 
bank  cashier  who  didn't  commit  suicide.  Known  to  the  late 
Miss  Aydelot  as  Tank  Shirley's  murderer.  If  the  devil 
knows  where  to  git  on  the  track  of  that  scoundrel  an'  locate 
him  properly  in  hell,  he'll  do  it  without  my  help.  By 
the  Lord  Almighty,  I'll  never  tell  what  I  know.  An'  this 
paper  goes  to  ashes  here.  Oh,  Caesar!  If  I  could  only 
burn  up  the  recollection  that  I  was  ever  low-down  an' 
money-grubbin'  enough  to  collute  with  such  as  him  for 
business.  I'm  danged  glad  I  had  that  quarter  kep'  in 
Leigh's  name  'stead  of  Jim's.  That's  why  Thomas  Smith 
threatened  and  didn't  act.  He  didn't  dare  to  go  against 
Leigh  as  long  as  Jane  Aydelot  was  livin'." 

He  stuck  a  blazing  match  to  the  letter  and  watched  it 
crumple  to  ashes  on  the  rusty  stove-hearth.  Then  he  care 
fully  swept  the  ashes  on  a  newspaper,  and,  opening  his 
doors  again,  he  scattered  them  in  the  dusty  main  street  of 
Wykerton. 

That  afternoon  Champers  went  again  to  the  Cloverdale 
Ranch.  Leigh  was  alone,  busy  with  her  brushes  and  paint- 
board  in  the  seat  on  the  lawn  where  Thaine  Aydelot  had 


358  Winning  the  Wilderness 

found  her  on  the  summer  day  painting  sunflowers.  The 
first  little  sunflower  was  blooming  now  by  the  meadow  fence. 

"  Don't  git  up,  Miss  Shirley.  Keep  your  seat,  mom.  I 
dropped  in  on  a  little  business.  I'm  glad  to  set  out  here." 

Champers  took  off  his  hat  and  fanned  his  red  face  as  he 
sat  on  the  ground  and  looked  out  at  the  winding  river  bor 
dered  by  alfalfa  fields. 

"Nice  stand  you  got  out  there."  He  pointed  with  his 
hat  toward  the  fields.  "  Where's  Jim  ?  " 

"  He  and  Asher  Aydelot  have  gone  to  Careyville  to  settle 
some  of  John  Jacobs'  affairs.  They  and  Todd  Stewart 
are  named  as  trustees  in  the  will,"  Leigh  replied. 

She  had  laid  aside  her  brushes  and  sat  with  her  hands 
folded  in  her  lap.  Champers  pulled  up  a  spear  of  blue- 
grass  and  chewed  it  thoughtfully.  At  length  he  said: 

"  Yes,  I  knew  that.  Jacobs  left  no  end  of  things  in  the 
way  of  property  for  me  to  look  after.  I'll  report  to  them 
now.  I  seem  to  be  general  handy  man.  Doc  Carey  left 
matters  with  me,  too." 

"Yes?"  Leigh  said  courteously. 

"Well,  referrin'  to  that  matter  regardin'  your  father 
we  spoke  of  the  other  day,  I  find,  through  Doc  Carey's 
helpin'  an'  some  other  ways,  that  your  father,  Mr.  Tank 
Shirley,  was  accidentally  drowned  in  Clover  Creek,  Ohio, 
some  years  ago.  So  far  as  I  can  find  out,  he  died  insolvent. 
If  I  discover  anything  further,  I'll  let  you  know." 

Leigh  sat  very  still,  her  eyes  on  the  far-away  headlands 
that  seemed  like  blue  cloud  banks  at  the  moment. 

"Had  you  heard  of  Miss  Jane  Aydelot's  demise?  I 
reckon  you  had,  of  course.  But  do  you  know  what  her 
intentions  were?" 


Jane  Aydelot's  Will  359 

Leigh  looked  steadily  at  her  questioner.  All  her  life 
she  had  had  a  way  of  keeping  her  own  counsel,  nor  was 
it  ever  easy  to  know  what  her  thoughts  might  be. 

"Miss  Shirley,  the  late  Miss  Jane  Aydelot  trusted 
Doc  Carey  to  look  after  her  affairs.  Doc  Carey,  he  trusted 
me  to  take  his  place.  Can  you  trust  me  to  be  the  last 
link  of  the  chain  in  doin'  her  business?  My  grammar's 
poor,  but  my  hands  is  clean  now,  thank  the  Lord ! " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Champers,  I  am  sure  of  your  uprightness." 

Leigh  did  not  dream  how  grateful  these  words  were  to 
the  man  before  her,  honestly  trying  to  beat  back  to  better 
ideals  of  life. 

"When  I  was  a  very  little  girl,"  Leigh  went  on,  "Miss 
Jane  told  me  I  was  to  be  her  heir." 

Darley  gave  a  start,  but  as  Leigh's  face  was  calm,  he 
could  only  wonder  how  much  she  had  remembered. 

"All  the  years  since  I've  lived  in  Kansas  I've  been  kept 
in  mind  in  many  ways  of  her  favor  toward  me.  I  came 
to  know  long  ago  that  she  was  determined  to  leave  me  all 
the  old  Aydelot  estate.  And  I  knew  also  that  it  should 
have  been  Asher's,  not  mine." 

Darley  thought  of  Thaine,  and,  dull  as  he  was,  he  read 
in  a  flash  a  romance  that  many  a  finer  mind  might  have 
missed. 

"  Well,  sufferin'  catfish ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Danged 
plucky  girl ;  forges  along  an'  bucks  me  into  sellin'  her  this 
ranch  an'  sets  it  into  alfalfy  an'  sets  up  Jim  Shirley  for  life, 
'cause  putterin'  in  the  garden  an'  bein'  kind  to  the  neigh 
bors  is  the  limit  to  that  big  man's  endurance.  An'  this 
pretty  girl,  knowin'  that  Aydelot  property  ought  to  be 
Thaine  Aydelot's,  just  turns  it  down,  an',  by  golly,  I'll 


360  Winning  the  Wilderness 

bet  she  turns  him  down,  too,  fearin'  he  wouldn't  feel  like 
takin'  it.  An'  he's  clear  hiked  to  the  edges  of  Chiny. 
Well,  it's  a  danged  queer  world.  I'm  glad  I've  only  got 
Darley  Champers  to  look  out  for.  The  day  I  see  them  two 
drivin'  out  of  Wykerton  towards  Little  Wolf,  the  time 
she'd  closed  the  Cloverdale  ranch  deal,  I  knowed  the  white 
lilac  mother  used  to  love  was  sweeter  in  my  back  lot." 

"  I  could  not  take  Miss  Jane's  property  and  be  happy," 
Leigh  went  on.  "  Besides,  I  can  earn  a  living.  See  what 
my  brushes  can  do,  and  see  the  secret  I  learned  in  the 
Coburn  book." 

Leigh  held  up  the  sketch  she  was  finishing,  then  pointed 
to  the  broad  alfalfa  acres,  refreshingly  green  in  the  May 
sunlight. 

"  Well,  I  brought  down  a  copy  of  the  late  Miss  Aydelot's 
will  that  she  left  with  Doc  Carey,  who  is  goin'  to  Chiny 
in  a  few  days,  him  an'  Thaine  Aydelot,  Doc  writes  me.  An' 
you  can  look  over  it.  I've  got  to  go  to  Cloverdale  next 
week  an'  settle  things  there,  an'  see  that  the  probatin's 
are  straight.  Lemme  hear  from  you  before  I  go.  I  must  be 
gettin'  on.  Danged  fine  country,  this  Grass  River  Valley. 
Who'd  a'  thought  it  back  in  the  seventies  when  Jim  Shirley 
nil'  Asher  Aydelot  squatted  here?  Goodday." 

Left  alone,  Leigh  Shirley  opened  the  big  envelope  hold 
ing  the  will  of  Francis  Aydelot  and  read  in  it  the  stern 
decree  that  no  child  of  Virginia  Thaine  should  inherit  the 
Aydelot  estate  in  Ohio. 

"  That's  why  Miss  Jane  couldn't  leave  it  to  Asher's  son," 
she  murmured. 

Then  she  read  the  will  of  the  late  Jane  Aydelot.  When 
she  lifted  her  face  from  its  pages,  her  fair  cheeks  were 


Jane  Aydelot's  Will  361 

pink  with  excitement,  her  deep  violet  eyes  were  shining,  her 
lips  were  parted  in  a  glad  smile.  She  went  down  to  the 
meadow  fence  and  plucked  the  first  little  golden  sunflower 
from  its  stem,  and  stood  holding  it  as  she  looked  away  to 
where  the  three  headlands  stood  up  clear  and  shimmering 
in  the  light  of  the  May  afternoon.  That  night  two  letters 
were  hurried  to  the  postoffice.  One  went  no  farther  than 
Wykerton  to  tell  Darley  Champers  that  Leigh  would 
heartily  approve  of  any  action  he  might  take  in  the  busi 
ness  that  was  taking  him  to  Ohio. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  FARTHER  WILDERNESS 

And  beyond  the  baths  of  sunset  found  new  worlds. 

—LONDON. 

DR.  CAREY  and  Thaine  Aydelot  sat  watching  the  play 
of  a  fountain  in  a  moonlit  garden  of  tropical  love 
liness.  In  the  Manila  hospital  Thaine  had  gone  far  down 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  before  he  reached  a 
turning  point.  But  youth,  good  blood,  a  constitution  sea 
soned  by  camp  and  field,  the  watchful  care  of  his  physician, 
and  the  blessing  of  the  Great  Physician,  from  whom  is  al] 
health,  at  last  prevailed,  and  he  came  back  sturdily  to  life 
and  strength. 

As  the  two  men  sat  enjoying  the  hour  Dr.  Carey  sud 
denly  asked: 

"After  this  hospital  service,  what  next?" 

"  How  soon  does  this  involuntary  servitude  end  ?  "  Thaine 
inquired. 

"A  fortnight  will  do  all  that  is  possible  for  us,"  Carey 
answered. 

"  Then  I'll  enlist  with  the  regulars,"  Thaine  declared. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  follow  a  military  life  ?  "  Carey  inquired, 
bending  forward  to  watch  the  play  of  light  on  the  silvery 
waters,  unconscious  of  the  play  of  moonbeams  on  his  silvery 
hair. 

"  No,  not  always,"  Thaine  responded. 

"Then  why  don't  you  go  home  now?"  Carey  went  on. 

Thaine  sat  silent  for  some  minutes.     Then  he  rose  to 


The  Farther  Wilderness  363 

his  full  height,  the  strong,  muscular,  agile  embodiment  of 
military  requirement.  On  his  face  the  firing  line  had 
graven  a  nobility  the  old  brown  Kansas  prairies  had  never 
seen. 

He  did  not  know  how  to  tell  Dr.  Carey,  because  he  did 
not  yet  fully  understand  himself,  that  war  to  him  must 
be  a  means,  not  an  end,  to  his  career;  nor  that  in  the 
long  quiet  hours  in  the  hospital  the  call  of  the  Kansas 
prairies,  half  a  world  away,  was  beginning  to  reach  his 
ears,  the  belief  that  the  man  behind  the  plow  may  be  no 
less  a  patriot  than  the  man  behind  the  gun ;  that  the  lifelong 
influence  of  his  farmer  father  and  mother  was  unconsciously 
winning  him  back  to  the  peaceful  struggle  with  the  soil. 
At  length  he  said  slowly : 

"Dr.  Carey,  when  I  saw  Lieutenant  Alford  brought  in 
I  counted  the  cost  again.  Only  American  ideals  of  govern 
ment  and  civilization  can  win  this  wilderness.  For  this 
Alford's  blood  was  shed.  He  wrote  to  his  mother  on 
Christmas  day  that  he  was  studying  here  to  get  his  Master's 
Degree  from  the  Kansas  University.  I  saw  him  just  after 
he  had  received  his  diploma  for  that  Degree.  I  was  a  fairly 
law-abiding  civilian.  The  first  shot  of  the  campaign  last 
February  began  in  me  what  Alford's  sacrifice  completed. 
I  am  waiting  to  see  what  next.  But  I  have  one  thing 
firmly  fixed  now.  Warfare  only  opens  the  way  for  the 
wilderness  winners  to  come  in  and  make  a  kingdom.  The 
Remington  rifle  runs  back  the  frontier  line ;  the  plowshare 
holds  the  land  at  last.  I  want,  when  my  service  here  is 
done,  to  go  back  to  the  wheatfields  and  the  cornfields.  I 
want  to  smell  the  alfalfa  and  see  the  prairie  windbreaks  and 
be  king  of  a  Kansas  farm.  I've  lost  my  ambition  for  gold 


364  Winning  the  Wilderness 

lace.  I  want  a  bigger  mental  ring  of  growth  every  year, 
and  I  believe  the  biggest  place  for.  me  to  get  this  will  be 
with  my  feet  on  the  prairie  sod.  Meantime,  I  shall  reenlist, 
as  I  said." 

"  Sit  down,  Thaine,  and  let  me  ask  you  one  question," 
Dr.  Carey  said. 

The  young  man  dropped  to  his  seat  again. 

"When  your  service  is  done  is  there  anything  to  hold 
you  from  going  straight  to  the  Grass  River  Valley  again  ?  " 

Thaine  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  clasped  his  hands 
behind  his  head  while  he  looked  steadily  at  the  splashing 
waters  before  him  as  he  said  frankly: 

"Yes,  there  is.  When  I  go  back  I  want  Leigh  Shirley 
—  and  it's  no  use  wanting." 

"  Thaine,  you  were  a  law-abiding  civilian  at  home.  The 
university  made  you  a  student.  You  came  out  here  a 
fearless  soldier  to  fight  your  country's  enemies.  Alford's 
death  made  jou  a  patriot  who  would  plant  American  ideals 
in  these  islands.  May  I  tell  you  that  there  is  still  one  more 
lesson  to  learn  ?  " 

Thaine  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"You  must  learn  to  be  a  Christian.  You  must  know 
what  service  for  humanity  means.  Then  the  call  to  duty 
will  be  a  bugle  note  of  victory  wherever  that  duty  may  be. 
You  needn't  hunt  for  opportunity  to  prove  this.  The 
opportunity  is  hurrying  toward  you  now  from  out  of  the 
Unknown." 

The  fine  head  with  the  heavy  masses  of  white  hair  seemed 
halo-crowned  at  that  moment.  It  was  as  he  appeared  that 
night  that  Thaine  Aydelot  always  remembers  him.  Two 
weeks  later  Thaine  enlisted  in  the  Fourteenth  United  States 


The  Farther  Wilderness  365 

Infantry,  stationed  in  Luzon.  Dr.  Carey  was  also  enrolled 
in  its  hospital  staff.  In  July  the  regiment  was  ordered  from 
the  Philippines  to  join  the  allied  armies  of  the  World 
Powers  at  Tien-Tsin  in  a  northern  Chinese  province,  where 
the  Boxer  forces  were  massing  about  Peking.  And  Thaine's 
opportunity  for  learning  his  greatest  lesson  came  hurrying 
toward  him  from  out  of  the  Unknown. 

This  notorious  Boxer  uprising,  gone  now  into  military 
annals,  had  reached  the  high  tide  of  its  power.  Beginning 
in  the  southern  province  of  China,  it  spread  northward, 
menacing  the  entire  Empire.  A  secret  sect  at  first,  it  was 
augmented  by  the  riffraff  that  feeds  on  any  new,  and  espe 
cially  lawless,  body;  by  deserters  disloyal  to  the  imperial 
government;  by  the  ignorant  and  the  unthinking;  by  the 
intimidated  and  the  intimidating.  It  enrolled  an  armed  force 
of  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  soldiers.  Its 
purposes  were  fanatical.  It  aimed  by  the  crudest  means 
to  root  out  every  idea  of  modern  life  and  thought  in  China ; 
every  occidental  invention,  every  progressive  method  of 
society,  every  scientific  discovery  for  the  betterment  of 
humanity.  And  especially  did  it  aim  to  put  to  death  every 
native  Chinese  Christian,  to  massacre  every  missionary  of 
the  Christ,  and  to  drive  out  or  destroy  every  foreign  citizen 
in  China.  Its  resources  were  abundant,  its  equipment  was 
ample,  its  methods  unspeakably  atrocious.  Month  after 
month  the  published  record  of  this  rebellion  was  sickening 
—  its  unwritten  history  beyond  human  imagining.  Im 
penetrable  were  its  walled  cities,  countless  in  numbers, 
unknown  the  scenes  of  its  vast  plains  and  rivers  and  barren 
fields  and  mountain  fastnesses.  Fifteen  thousand  native 
Christians  and  hundreds  of  foreigners  were  brutally  massa- 


366  Winning  the  Wilderness 

cred.  At  last  it  centered  its  strength  about  the  great  city 
of  Peking.  And  a  faint,  smothered  wail  for  deliverance 
came  from  the  Foreign  Legation  shut  in  behind  beleaguered 
walls  inside  that  city  to  starve  or  perish  at  the  hands  of  the 
bloody  Boxers. 

Very  patiently  the  World  Powers  waited  and  warned  the 
Chinese  leaders  of  a  day  of  retribution.  Fanatics  are 
fanatics  because  they  cannot  learn.  The  conditions  only 
whetted  the  Boxers  to  greater  barbarity.  They  believed 
themselves  invincible  and  they  laughed  to  scorn  all  thought 
of  foreign  interference.  Then  came  the  sword  of  the  Lord 
and  of  Gideon  to  the  battle  lines  at  Tien-Tsin  on  the  Peiho 
River,  as  it  came  once  long  ago  to  the  valley  of  Jezreel. 

In  the  mid-afternoon  of  an  August  day  Thaine  Aydelot 
heard  the  bugle  note  calling  the  troops  to  marching  order. 
Thaine  was  fond  of  the  bugler,  a  little  fifteen-year-old 
Kansas  boy  named  Kemper,  because  he  remembered  that 
Asher  Aydelot  had  been  a  drummer  boy  once  when  he  was 
no  older  than  "  Little  Kemper,"  as  the  regiment  called  him. 

"I  wish  you  were  where  my  father  is  new,  Kemper," 
Thaine  said  as  the  boy  skipped  by  him. 

"Where's  that?  It  can't  be  hell  or  he'd  be  with  us," 
Little  Kemper  replied. 

"  No,  he's  in  Kansas,"  Thaine  said. 

"Oh,  that's  right  next  door  to  heaven,  but  I  can't  go 
just  yet.  There's  too  much  doing  here,"  the  little  bugler 
declared  as  he  hurried  away. 

Young  as  he  was,  Little  Kemper  was  the  busiest  member 
of  the  regiment.  Life  with  him  was  a  continual  "  doing  " 
and  he  did  it  joyously  and  well. 

"There's  something  doing  here."     Thaine  hardly  had 


The  Farther  Wilderness  367 

time  to  think  it  as  the  armies  came  into  their  places.  It 
was  the  third  day  after  the  regiment  had  reached  Tien-Tsin. 
Along  the  Peiho  river  lay  a  sandy  plain  with  scant  tillage 
and  great  stretches  of  barren  lands.  Here  and  there  were 
squalid  villages  with  now  and  then  a  few  more  pretentious 
structures  with  adobe  brick  walls  and  tiled  roofs.  Every 
where  was  the  desolation  of  ignorance  and  fear,  saddening 
enough,  without  the  Boxer  rebellion  to  intensify  it  with 
months  of  dreadful  warfare. 

As  Thaine  fell  into  his  place  he  thought  of  the  Aydelot 
wheatfields  and  of  the  alfalfa  that  Leigh  Shirley's  patient 
judgment  had  helped  to  spread  over  the  Cloverdale  Ranch. 
And  even  in  the  face  of  such  big  things  as  he  was  on  his 
way  to  meet  the  conquest  of  the  prairie  soil  seemed 
wonderful. 

Big  things  were  waiting  him  now,  and  his  heart  throbbed 
with  their  bigness  as  his  regiment  took  its  place.  It  was 
a  wonderful  company  that  fell  into  line  and  swung  up  the 
Peiho  river  that  August  afternoon.  The  world  never  saw 
its  like  before,  and  may  never  see  it  again.  Not  wonderful 
in  numbers,  for  there  were  only  sixteen  thousand  of  the 
allied  armies,  all  told,  to  pit  themselves  against  an  armed 
force  able  to  line  up  one  hundred  and  sixteen  thousand 
against  them.  Not  nunbers,  but  varying  nationalities,  vary 
ing  races,  strange  confusion  of  tongues,  with  one  common 
purpose  binding  all  into  one  body,  made  the  company 
forming  on  the  banks  of  the  Peiho  a  wonderful  one. 

Thaine's  regiment  was  drawn  up  at  an  angle  with  the 
line,  ready  to  fall  into  its  place  among  the  reserves,  and 
the  young  Kansan  watched  the  flower  of  the  world's  sol 
diery  file  along  the  way. 


368  Winning  the  Wilderness 

In  the  front  were  the  little  brown  Japanese  Cavalry, 
Artillery,  and  Infantry  —  men  who  in  battle  make  dying  as 
much  their  business  as  living.  Beside  these  were  the  Eng 
lish  forces,  the  Scotch  Highlanders,  the  Welsh  Fusiliers,  the 
Royal  Artillery,  all  in  best  array.  Behind  them  the  Indian 
Empire  troops,  the  Sikh  Infantry  with  a  sprinkling  of 
Sepoys  and  the  Mounted  Bengalese  Lancers.  Then  fol 
lowed,  each  in  its  place,  the  Italian  marines  and  foot  sol 
diery,  the  well-groomed  French  troops  from  all  branches 
of  the  military ;  the  stalwart,  fair-haired  Germans,  soldiers 
to  a  finish  in  weight  and  training ;  the  Siberian  Cossacks 
and  the  Russian  Infantry  and  Cavalry,  big,  brutal  looking 
men  whom  women  of  any  nation  might  fear.  In  reserve  at 
the  last  of  the  line  were  the  American  forces,  the  Ninth 
and  Fourteenth  Regiments  of  Infantry,  the  Sixth  Cavalry, 
and  F  Battery  of  the  Fifth  Artillery. 

So  marched  the  host  from  Tien-Tsin  along  the  sandy 
plains,  led  on  by  one  purpose,  to  reach  the  old  city  of 
Peking  and  save  the  lives  of  the  foreign  citizens  shut  up 
inside  their  compound  —  whether  massacred,  or  living, 
starved,  and  tortured,  this  allied  army  then  could  not 
know. 

The  August  day  was  intensely  hot,  with  its  hours  made 
grievous  by  a  heavy,  humid  air,  and  the  sand  and  thick 
dust  ground  and  flung  up  in  clouds  by  sixteen  thousand 
troops,  with  all  the  cavalry  hoofs  and  artillery  wheels.  It 
was  only  a  type  of  the  ten  days  that  followed,  wherein  heat 
and  dust  and  humid  air,  and  thirst  —  burning,  maddening 
thirst  —  joined  together  against  the  brave  soldiery  fighting 
not  for  fortune,  nor  glory,  nor  patriotism,  but  for 
humanity. 


The  Farther  Wilderness  369 

As  they  tramped  away  in  military  order,  Thaine  Aydelot 
said  to  his  nearest  comrade: 

"  Goodrich,  I  saw  a  familiar  German  face  up  in  the  line." 

"Friend  of  yours  the  Emperor  sent  out  to  keep  you 
company  ?  "  Goodrich  inquired  with  a  smile. 

"No,  a  Kansas  joint-keeper  named  Hans  Wyker.  What 
do  you  suppose  put  him  against  the  Boxers?" 

"  Oh,  the  army  is  the  last  resort  for  some  men.  It's 
society's  clearing  house,"  Goodrich  replied. 

The  speaker  was  a  Harvard  man,  a  cultured  gentleman, 
in  civil  life  a  University  Professor.  The  same  high  purpose 
was  in  his  service  that  controlled  Thaine  Aydelot  now. 

"I  don't  like  being  at  the  tail-end  of  this  procession," 
a  big  German  from  the  Pennsylvania  foundries  declared, 
as  he  trudged  sturdily  along  under  the  blazing  sun.  The 
courage  in  his  determined  face  and  his  huge  strength  would 
warrant  him  a  place  in  the  front  line  anywhere. 

"Nor  I,  Schwoebel,"  Thaine  declared.  "I  came  out 
with  Funston's  'Fighting  Twentieth.'  I'm  used  to  being 
called  back,  not  tolled  along  after  the  rear." 

"Rock  Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!"  roared  Schwoebel 
in  a  tremendous  bellow. 

"Rock  Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!"  a  Pennsylvania 
University  man  named  McLearn  followed  Schwoebel. 

"Rock  Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!"  went  down  the 
whole  line  of  infantry. 

The  old  Kansas  University  yell,  taken  to  the  Philippines 
by  college  men,  became  the  battle  cry  of  the  Twentieth 
Kansas  Volunteers,  who  when  they  returned  to  civil  life,  left 
it  there  for  the  American  army  —  and  "Rock  Chalk!  Jay 
Hawk!  K  U!"  became  the  American  watchword  and  cry 


370  Winning  the  Wilderness 

of  all  that  "  far  flung  battle  line "  marching  on  through 
dust  and  heat  to  rescue  the  imperiled  Christians  in  a  be- 
leagured  fortress  inside  the  impregnable  city  of  Peking. 

"  You  needn't  worry  about  the  rear,  Aydelot.  One 
engagement  may  whip  this  line  about,  end  to  end,  or  it 
may  scale  off  all  that's  in  front  of  us  and  leave  nothing 
but  the  rear.  All  this  before  we  have  time  to  change  collars 
again.  We'll  let  you  or  Tasker  here  lead  into  Peking," 
an  Indiana  University  man  declared. 

"  That's  good  of  you,  Binford.  Some  Kansas  man  will 
be  first  to  carry  the  flag  into  Peking.  It  might  as  well 
be  Aydelot." 

This  from  Tasker,  a  slender  young  fellow  from  a  Kansas 
railroad  office. 

So  they  joked  as  they  tramped  along.  It  was  nearly 
midnight  when  they  pitched  camp  before  the  little  village 
of  Peit-Tsang  beside  the  Peiho. 

In  the  dim  dawning  of  the  August  morning  Little  Kem- 
per's  bugle  sounded  the  morning  reveille.  Thaine  was  just 
dreaming  of  home  and  he  thought  the  first  bugle  note  was 
the  call  for  him  up  the  stairway  of  the  Sunflower  Inn. 
His  windows  looked  out  on  the  Aydelot  wheatfields  and  the 
grove  beyond,  and  every  morning  the  sunrise  across  the 
level  eastern  prairie  made  a  picture  only  the  hand  of  the 
Infinite  could  paint.  This  morning  he  opened  his  eyes  on 
a  far  different  scene.  The  reveille  became  a  call  to  arms 
and  the  troops  fell  into  line  ready  for  battle. 

Before  the  sun  had  reached  the  zenith  the  line  was 
whipped  end  to  end,  as  Binford  of  Indiana  had  said  it 
might  be.  In  this  engagement  on  the  sandy  plain  about 
the  little  village  of  Peit-Tsang,  Thaine  with  his  comrades 


The  Farther  Wilderness  371 

saw  what  it  meant  to  lead  that  battle  line.  He  saw  the 
brave  little  Japanese  mowed  down  like  standing  grain  before 
the  reaper's  sickle.  He  saw  the  ranks  move  swiftly  up  to 
take  the  places  of  the  fallen,  never  wavering  nor  retreating, 
rushing  to  certain  death  as  to  places  of  vantage  in  a  coronal 
pageantry.  The  Filipino's  Mauser  was  as  deadly  as  the 
older  style  gun  of  the  Boxer.  A  bullet  aimed  true  does  a 
bullet's  work.  But  in  this  battle  that  raged  about  Peit- 
Tsang  Thaine  quickly  discovered  that  this  was  no  fight  in 
a  Filipino  jungle.  Here  was  real  war,  as  big  and  terrible 
above  the  campaigns  he  had  known  in  Luzon  as  the  purpose 
in  it  was  big  above  loyalty  to  the  flag  and  extension  of 
American  dominion  and  ideals. 

When  the  thing  was  ended  with  the  routing  of  the 
Boxer  forces,  of  the  sixteen  thousand  that  went  into  battle 
a  tithe  of  one-tenth  of  their  number  lay  dead  on  the  plains 
—  sixteen  hundred  men,  the  cost  of  conquest  in  a  far 
wilderness.  The  heaviest  toll  fell  on  the  brave  Japanese 
who  had  led  in  the  attack. 

Thaine  Aydelot  did  not  dream  of  home  that  night.  He 
slept  on  his  arms  the  heavy  sleep  of  utter  weariness,  which 
Little  Kemper's  bugle  call  broke  at  three  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  Before  the  August  sun  had  crawled  over  the 
eastern  horizon  the  armies  were  swinging  up  the  Peiho 
river  toward  Peking.  The  American  troops  were  leading 
the  column  now,  as  Thaine  Aydelot  had  wished  they  might, 
and  in  all  that  followed  after  the  day  at  Peit-Tsang  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,  brave  token  of  a  brave  people,  floated 
above  the  front  lines  of  soldiery,  even  to  the  end  of  the 
struggle. 

It  was  high  noon  above  the  Orient,  where  the  Peiho 


372  Winning  the  Wilderness 

flows  beside  the  populous  town  of  Yang-Tsun.  The  Boxer 
army  routed  by  the  battle  of  Peit-Tsang  had  massed  its 
front  before  the  town,  a  formidable  array  in  numbers, 
equipment,  and  frenzied  eagerness  to  halt  here  and  forever 
the  poor  little  line  of  foreign  soldiers  creeping  in  upon  it 
from  the  sea.  The  Boxers  knew  that  they  could  match 
the  fighting  strength  of  this  line  with  quadruple  force. 
The  troops  coming  toward  them  had  marched  twelve  miles 
under  the  August  heat  of  a  hundred  degrees,  through  sand 
and  alkali  dust,  in  the  heavy  humid  air  saturated  with  evil 
odors.  They  had  had  no  food  since  the  night  before,  nor 
a  drink  of  water  since  daydawn.  Joyful  would  it  be  to 
slaughter  here  the  entire  band  and  then  rush  back  to  the 
hoary  old  City  of  Peking  with  the  triumphant  message 
that  the  Allied  Armies  of  the  World  had  fallen  before 
China.  Then  the  death  of  every  foreigner  in  the  Empire 
would  be  certain. 

At  noon  the  battle  lines  were  formed.  In  the  swinging 
into  place  as  Thaine  Aydelot  stood  beside  Tasker,  sur 
rounded  by  his  comrades,  Little  Kemper  dashed  by  him. 

"Here's  where  the  corn-fed  Kansans  do  their  work,"  he 
said  gaily  to  the  Kansas  men. 

"With  a  few  bean-eaters  from  Boston  to  help,"  Good 
rich  responded. 

"And  a  Hoosier  to  give  them  culture,"  Binford  added. 

"Yes,  yes,  with  the  William  Penn  Quakers  and  the 
Pennsylvania  Dutch,"  Schwoebel  roared,  striking  McLearn 
on  the  shoulder. 

Men  think  of  many  things  as  the  battle  breaks,  but 
never  do  they  fight  less  bravely  because  they  have  laughed 
the  moment  before. 


The  Farther  Wilderness  373 

Thaine  was  in  the  very  front  of  the  battle  lines.  In 
the  pause  before  the  first  onslaught  he  thought  of  many 
things  confusedly  and  a  few  most  vividly.  He  thought  of 
Leigh  Shirley  and  her  childish  dream  of  Prince  Quippi  in 
China  —  the  China  just  beyond  the  purple  notches.  He 
thought  of  his  mother  as  she  had  looked  that  spring  morn 
ing  when  he  talked  of  enlisting  for  the  Spanish  War.  He 
thought  of  his  father,  who  had  never  known  fear  in  his 
life.  Of  his  last  words: 

"  As  thy  days  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

And  keenly  he  remembered  Dr.  Carey,  somewhere  among 
the  troops  behind  him.  The  fine  head  crowned  with  white 
hair,  caressed  by  the  moonbeams,  as  he  had  seen  it  in  the 
Manila  garden,  and  his  earnest  words : 

"You  must  learn  to  be  a  Christian.  You  must  know 
what  service  for  humanity  means.  You  need  not  hunt  for 
the  opportunity  to  prove  this.  The  opportunity  is  hurry 
ing  toward  you  now  out  of  the  Unknown." 

"  It  is  here,  the  opportunity,"  he  murmured.  "  Oh,  God, 
make  me  a  fit  soldier  for  Thy  service." 

He  did  not  pray  for  safety  from  danger  and  death;  he 
asked  for  fitness  to  serve  and  in  that  moment  his  great 
lesson  was  learned.  There  came  an  instant's  longing  for 
Dr.  Carey;  then  the  battle  storm  burst  and  he  did  not 
think  any  more,  he  fought.  It  were  useless  to  picture  that 
struggle. 

Nothing  counts  in  warfare  till  the  results  are  shown. 
For  six  hours  the  fighting  did  not  cease,  and  not  at 
Valley  Forge,  'nor  Brandywine,  Lake  Erie,  nor  Buena 
Vista,  Gettysburg,  nor  Shiloh,  San  Juan  Hill,  nor  in  any 
jungle  in  Luzon  did  the  American  flag  stream  out  over 


374  Winning  the  Wilderness 

greater  heroes  than  it  led  today  on  the  plains  beside  the 
Peiho  river  before  Yang-Tsun. 

At  last  the  firing  ceased,  the  smoke  lifted  above  the  field ; 
the  Boxers,  gathering  their  shattered  forces  together,  re 
treated  again  before  the  little  line  of  Allied  Troops  invad 
ing  this  big  strange  land.  And  the  last  hours  of  that  long 
hot  day  waned  to  eventide. 

There  were  only  a  few  of  its  events  that  Thaine  could 
comprehend.  He  knew  Little  Kemper  had  received  his 
death  wound,  blowing  his  bugle  calls  again  and  again  after 
he  had  been  stricken,  till  the  last  reveille  sounded  for  him. 
The  plucky  little  body  with  the  big  soul,  who  had  found 
his  brief  fifteen  years  of  life  so  full  of  "doing." 

Thaine  knew  that  in  the  thick  of  the  fight  the  native 
Indian  Infantry,  the  Sikhs  and  Sepoys,  had  fallen  in 
cowardly  fear  before  the  Boxer  fire.  He  remembered  how 
big  Schwoebel,  and  Tasker,  and  Binford,  Goodrich,  and 
McLearn,  with  himself  and  another  man  whom  he  recalled 
afterward  as  Boehringer,  a  Kansas  man,  had  clubbed  self- 
respect  into  a  few  of  them  and  kicked  the  other  whining 
cowards  from  their  way.  He  knew  that  Schwoebel  had 
been  grievously  wounded  and  was  being  taken  back  to  Tien- 
Tsin  with  many  other  brave  fellows  who  had  been  stricken 
that  day.  He  knew  that  near  the  last  of  the  fray  a  man 
whom  he  had  admired  and  loved  second  to  Lieutenant 
Alford,  big  Clint  Graham,  of  a  royally  fine  old  family  of 
state  builders  in  far-away  Kansas,  had  fallen  by  the 
mistaken  shot  of  Russian  cannon,  and  the  weight  of  that 
loss  hung  heavy  about  the  edge  of  his  consciousness 
wherever  he  turned.  But  what  followed  the  battle  Thaine 
Aydelot  will  never  forget. 


The  Farther  Wilderness  375 

Twelve  hundred  men  rose  no  more  from  that  bloody 
field  before  Yang-Tsun.  The  righting  force,  sixteen  thou 
sand  strong,  was  wearing  off  at  the  rate  of  almost  a 
regiment  and  a  half  a  day,  and  it  was  yet  a  hundred  miles 
to  Peking. 

All  about  Thaine  were  men  with  faces  grimy  as  his  own ; 
their  lips,  like  his,  split  and  purple  from  the  alkali  dust. 
They  had  had  no  water  to  drink  in  all  that  long  day's 
twelve  miles  of  marching  and  fiix  hours  of  fighting.  Fear 
ful  is  the  price  paid  out  when  the  wilderness  goes  forth  to 
war !  And  heroic,  sublimely  heroic,  may  be  the  Christianity 
of  the  battlefield. 

"We  must  help  these  fellows,"  Thaine  said  to  his 
comrades  as  the  wail  for  water  went  up  from  wounded 
men. 

"  The  river  is  this  way,"  McLearn  declared.  "  Hurry ! 
the  boys  are  dying." 

So  over  countless  forms  they  hurried  to  the  river's 
brink  for  water.  Thaine  and  Tasker  and  Boehringer  were 
accustomed  to  muddy  streams,  for  the  prairie  waters  are 
never  clear.  But  Goodrich  from  Boston  had  a  memory  of 
mountain  brooks.  The  Pennsylvania  man,  McLearn,  the 
cold  springs  of  the  Alleghanies,  and  for  Binf ord  there  was 
old  Broad  Ripple  out  beyond  Indianapolis.  All  these  men 
came  down  with  dry  canteens  to  the  Peiho  by  Yang-Tsun. 
The  river  was  choked  with  dead  Chinamen  and  dead  dogs 
and  horses.  They  must  push  aside  the  bodies  to  find  room 
to  dip  in  their  canteens. 

4i  You  have  one  more  lesson.  You  must  learn  to  be  a 
Christian." 


376  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Somehow  the  words  seemed  to  ring  round  and  round  just 
out  of  Thaine's  mental  sight. 

"Vasser!  Vasser!"  cried  a  big  German  soldier  before 
him. 

Thaine  stooped  to  give  him  a  drink,  and  as  he  lifted  up 
the  man's  head  he  saw  the  stained  face  of  Hans  Wyker. 

"  It's  very  goot,"  Hans  murmured,  licking  his  lips  for 
more.  "  Wisky  not  so  goot  as  vasser,"  and  then  he  trailed 
off  into  a  delirium.  "  Don't  tell.  Don't  tell,"  he  pleaded. 
"I  neffer  mean  to  get  Schmitt.  I  not  know  he  would  be 
der  yet.  I  hide  for  Yacob,  an'  I  get  Schmitt  in  der  back 
and  I  only  want  Yacob.  He  send  me  to  der  pen  for  sure  yet 
next  time.  I  hate  Yon  Yacob." 

A  little  silence,  then  Hans  murmured: 

"  I  didn't  go  to  Kansas  City.  I  coom  back  to  Gretchen's 
home  by  Little  Wolf.  I  hide  where  I  watch  for  Yacob. 
I  shoot  twice  to  be  sure  of  Yacob,  an'  Schmitt,  hidin'  in 
der  crack  by  der  roat,  get  one  shot.  So  I  coom  to  Yermany 
and  enlist.  Gretchen,  she  coom  too  an'  she  stay  der.  Veil ! 
I  help  fight  Boxer  some.  Mine  Gott,  forgif  me.  I  do 
once  some  goot  for  der  world  dis  day." 

And  that  was  the  last  of  Wyker. 

The  twilight  hour  was  near.  The  wounded  had  been 
borne  away  by  busy  Red  Cross  angels  of  mercy.  Wide 
away  across  the  Chinese  plain  the  big  red  sun  slipped  down 
the  amber  summer  sky  into  a  bath  of  molten  flame.  Then 
out  of  sight  behind  the  edge  of  the  world  it  turned  all 
the  west  into  one  magnificent  surge  of  scarlet  glory,  touch 
ing  to  beauty  the  tiny  gray  cloud  flecks  far  away  to  the 
eastward ;  while  long  rivers  of  golden  light  by  rivers  of 
roseate  glow  mingled  at  last  along  the  zenith  in  one  vast 


The  Farther  Wilderness  377 

sweep  of  mother-of-pearl.  A  cool  breeze  came  singing  in 
from  the  sea  —  fanning  the  fevered  faces  of  the  weary 
soldiers.  The  desolate  places  were  hidden  by  the  deep 
ening  shadows,  and  the  serenity  of  the  twilight  hour  fell 
on  the  battlefield. 

Then  the  men  of  each  nationality  went  out  to  bury  their 
dead.  Swiftly  the  little  brown  Japanese  digged  and  filled 
up  the  graves  into  which  their  comrades  were  deftly  heaped. 
The  Russian  and  Siberian  Cossack  lunged  their  fallen  ones 
in  heavily  and  unfeelingly.  The  Bengalese  and  Sikhs  thrust 
their  own  out  of  sight  as  they  were  planting  for  an  uncer 
tain  harvest.  Each  soldier  from  France  who  lost  his  life 
on  that  battlefield  fell  on  his  own  grave  and  there  his 
countrymen  covered  him  over,  an  unmarked  spot  in  a 
foreign  land. 

Thaine  straightened  a  minute  above  his  spade.  The 
cool  breezes  were  grateful  to  his  heated  brow.  The  after- 
sunset  glow  seemed  like  the  benediction  of  the  Infinite  on 
the  closing  act  of  the  day.  He  saw  the  hurried  and  unfeel 
ing  dumping  of  bodies  into  the  holes  awaiting  them. 
Then  his  heart  grew  big  with  something  unspeakable  as  he 
noted  how  in  all  that  irreverent  and  unsympathetic  action 
the  American  and  English  soldiery  alone  were  serving  as 
brother  for  brother.  In  the  long  trenches  prepared  for 
them  their  dead  were  laid  writh  reverent  dignity  and  gentle 
ness.  Each  one's  place  was  carefully  marked  with  a  num 
bered  slab  that  in  a  future  day  the  sacred  dust  might  be 
carried  back  to  the  soil  of  the  homeland.  As  the  sunset 
deepened  to  richer  coloring  and  the  battlefield  grew  still 
and  still,  far  along  the  lines  the  bands  of  the  English 
Artillery  and  the  Welsh  Fusiliers,  with  the  bagpipes 


378  Winning  the  Wilderness 

of  the  Scottish  Highlanders,  mingled  their  music  with  the 
music  of  the  splendid  band  of  the  Fourteenth  American 
Infantry  in  the  sweet  and  sacred  strains  of  the  beloved  old 
hymn : 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee. 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me. 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee. 

And   Thaine   Aydelot  knew  that  his   last   and  biggest 
lesson  was  learned. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   END   OF   THE  WELDEENESS 

Have  I  named  one  single  river?     Have  I  claimed 

one  single  acre? 
Have  I  kept  one  single  nugget  (barring  samples)  ? 

No,  not  I. 
Because  my  price  was  paid  me  ten  times  over  by  my 

Maker. 

But  you  wouldn't  understand  it.    You  go  up  and 
occupy. 

—The  Explorer. 

HE  victory  at  Yang-Tsun  had  come  with  a  tremendous 
-*•  loss  of  life.  To  go  on  now  promised  the  cutting  to 
pieces  of  the  entire  army.  To  stay  here  and  await  rein 
forcements  would  mean  the  slaughter  of  all  the  foreigners 
in  Peking.  In  a  council  of  war  the  next  day  English  and 
Indian,  Russian,  German,  Japanese,  Italian,  and  French, 
general  after  general  declared  for  the  wisdom  of  waiting 
at  Yang-Tsun  for  reinforcements. 

Up  spoke  then  General  Chaffee  of  the  American 
command : 

"I  will  not  wait  while  thi  Boxers  massacre  the  helpless 
Christians.  Stay  here  or  go  back  to  your  own  countries, 
as  you  please.  My  army  will  go  on  to  Peking,  if  it  must 
go  alone." 

And  his  will  prevailed. 

Followed  then  a  memorable  march,  with  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  ever  leading  the  line.  The  strength  of  the  force 
was  thirteen  thousand  now  and  one  thousand  of  these  fell 
by  the  way  before  the  end  of  the  journey. 

379 


380  Winning  the  Wilderness 

After  Yang-Tsun,  for  the  only  time  in  this  ten  days' 
campaign,  the  soldiers  undressed  and  bathed  themselves  like 
Christians  in  the  unchristian  Peiho,  and  on  the  next  day, 
which  was  the  Sabbath,  they  listened  to  the  military  chapel 
service.  Six  days  they  forged  onward  with  the  same  cruel 
heat,  and  scalding  air,  and  alkali  dust,  and  poison  water, 
over  dreary  plains,  through  deserted  villages,  twenty, 
twenty-five,  and  even  thirty  miles  a  day,  they  pushed  on 
toward  the  Chinese  capital. 

And  ever  before  them  the  Boxers  slowly  receded,  stinging 
grievously  as  they  moved.  Sure  were  they  that  at  last  only 
dire  calamity  could  await  that  slender  column  moving  across 
the  plains,  led  under  a  flag  of  red,  white,  and  blue,  with 
bands  ever  playing  The  Star-Spangled  Banner,  while  from 
line  on  line  rolled  out  that  weird  battle  cry  of  "Rock 
Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!"  Sure  were  they  that  this 
stubborn  little  bands  of  soldiers  foolishly  following  the 
receding  Boxer  must  at  last  crush  itself  like  dead-ripe  fruit 
against  the  ancient  and  invincible  walls  of  Peking. 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day  from  Yang-Tsun  the 
twelve  thousand  men  of  the  Allied  Armies,  flower  of  the 
world's  soldiery,  stumbled  into  camp  with  their  outposts 
in  sight  of  the  great  walls  of  the  City  of  Peking.  This 
had  been  the  longest  and  hottest  of  all  the  days,  with  the 
weariest  length  of  march.  A  great  storm  cloud  was  rising 
in  the  west  and  the  air  hung  hot  and  still  before  it. 

Thaine  Aydelot  and  his  comrades  threw  themselves  down, 
too  exhausted  to  care  for  what  might  happen  next. 

"  This  is  the  hottest  day  I  ever  knew,"  declared  McLearn 
wearily,  as  he  lay  prone  on  the  ground  looking  up  at  the 
hot  sky  with  unblinking  eyes. 


The  End  of  the  Wilderness  381 

"  I  reckon  you  never  hit  the  National  pike  on  an  August 
day,  out  between  Green  Castle  and  Terre  Haute  down  in 
Indianny,"  Binford  suggested. 

"  Nor  St.  Marys-by-the-Kaw,"  Boehringer,  a  Kansas 
man,  added.  "There's  where  you  get  real  summery 
weather." 

"  Oh,  kill  him,  Aydelot,  he's  worse  than  a  Boxer.  Don't 
you  know  I'm  from  Boston  originally,  which  is  only  a 
State  of  Mind?  "  Goodrich  urged. 

"No  matter  what  state  you  are  from  originally,  you 
are  in  China  now,  which  is  in  a  state  of  insurrection  that 
we  must  get  ready  for  a  state  of  resurrection  tomorrow. 
What  are  you  thinking  about,  T.  Aydelot  ?  You  look  like 
Moses  and  the  prophets."  McLearn  half  turned  over 
with  the  question. 

Thaine,  who  was  lying  on  his  side,  supporting  his  head 
on  his  hand,  quoted  softly: 

" '  Oh,  the  prairies'  air  so  quiet,  an'  there's  allers 

lots  of  room 

In  the  golden  fields  of  Kansas,  when  the 
Sun 

Flowers 
Bloom.' " 

A  low  boom  of  thunder  rolled  across  the  western  sky;  a 
twilight  darkness  fell  on  the  earth,  and  a  long  night  of 
storm  and  stress  began  for  the  army  of  deliverance 
encamped  before  Peking. 

Outside  the  city  the  Boxers  massed  in  numbers.  Inside 
more  than  a  hundred  thousand  waited  the  coming  of  hardly 
more  than  one-tenth  of  their  number.  No  wonder  they 
felt  secure  behind  their  centuries-old  walls. 


382  Winning  the  Wilderness 

Thaine  Aydelot  was  accustomed  to  sleeping  tentless  on 
the  ground  and  to  being  beaten  by  rains.  He  was  a  sound 
sleeper  and  he  was  very  weary.  But  tonight  he  could  not 
sleep.  The  morrow  would  see  world  movements  that  should 
change  all  future  history;  in  which  movements  he  was  a 
tiny  unit,  as  every  furrow  that  his  father,  Asher  Aydelot, 
had  run  across  the  face  of  the  prairie  had  by  so  much  won 
it  from  wilderness  to  fruitfulness. 

All  night  long  the  rain  poured  in  torrents  upon  the  camp. 
A  terrific  cannonade  of  thunder  shook  the  earth.  The 
lightning  tore  through  the  clouds  in  jagged  tongues  of 
flame.  Where  Thaine  lay  he  could  see  with  every  flash 
the  great  frowning  black  walls  of  Peking  looming  up  only 
a  few  miles  away.  In  the  lull  of  the  thunder  a  more  dread 
ful  cannonading  could  be  heard,  hour  after  hour.  Thaine 
knew  that  inside  the  walls  the  Boxers  were  besieging  the 
Compound.  And  inside  that  Compound,  if  he  were  yet 
alive,  was  his  old  teacher,  Pryor  Gaines.  He  wondered  if 
the  God  of  Battles  that  had  led  the  armies  all  this  long 
hard  way  would  fail  them  now  when  one  more  blow  might 
bring  deliverance  to  His  children.  He  remembered  again 
the  blessing  with  which  his  father  had  sent  him  forth: 

"  As  thy  day  so  shall  thy  strength  be.  The  Eternal  God 
is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms." 

The  memory  brought  peace,  and  at  length,  wrapped 
round  in  the  blessing  of  an  absolute  trust,  he  fell  asleep. 

Inside  of  the  City  of  Peking  on  that  dreadful  night  the 
madness  of  the  Boxer  forces  was  comparable  to  nothing 
human.  Nor  jungle  beasts  starving  for  food  and  drink, 
frenzied  with  the  smell  of  blood  and  the  sight  of  water, 
could  have  raged  in  more  maniac  fury  than  the  fury  pos- 


The  End  of  the  Wilderness  383 

sessing  the  demon  minds  of  these  fanatics  in  their  supreme 
struggle  to  flood  the  streets  of  Peking  with  rivers  of 
Christian  blood.  For  such  as  these  the  Christ  died  on  the 
Cross  of  Calvary.  For  such  as  these  the  missionary  is 
offered  up.  A  human  jungle,  untamed  and  waiting,  to 
whose  wilderness  the  soldier  became  a  light-bearer,  albeit 
he  brought  the  gospel  of  gunpowder  to  aid  him. 

The  great  walls  about  Peking  enclose  an  area  some  four 
teen  miles  in  length  and  twelve  miles  in  width.  Within 
these  walls  lie  several  cities,  separated  from  each  other  by 
walls  of  lesser  strength,  intended,  with  one  exception,  in 
the  opening  of  the  twentieth  century,  not  so  much  for 
defense  as  for  boundary  lines. 

The  exception  is  the  Imperial  City,  inside  whose  sacred 
precincts  it  was  firmly  believed  a  foreigner  might  not  set 
foot  and  not  be  stricken  dead  by  the  gods.  This  City 
within  a  city  had  defenses  the  allied  armies  were  yet  to 
come  against.  It  lies  on  the  north,  inside  the  great  wall. 
Just  east  of  it,  along  the  north  wall,  was  the  Foreign 
Legation,  whose  south  and  east  bounds  were  lesser  structures 
of  brick  and  earth.  Here  all  the  foreigners  and  many 
native  Christians  had  been  shut  in  for  six  long  weeks,  with 
the  infuriated  Boxers  hammering  daily  at  their  gates,  mad 
for  massacre. 

Here  they  had  barricaded  themselves  with  all  the  meager 
means  available.  They  had  fortified  every  gate  with  what 
ever  might  stop  a  bullet  or  check  a  cannon  ball.  They  filled 
up  the  broken  places  in  the  walls  with  piles  of  earth;  they 
dug  deep  trenches  inside  these  walls,  and  inside  these 
trenches  they  had  built  up  heaps  of  earthworks.  Daily 
they  strengthened  the  weaker  places  and  watched  and 


384  Winning  the  Wilderness 

prayed.  No  word  from  the  big  world  outside  seemingly 
could  come  to  them  —  a  little  handful  of  the  Lord's  children, 
forgotten  of  Him,  and  locked  dungeon  deep  from  human 
aid.  They  had  sent  out  a  cry  for  help  and  had  sent  up 
prayers  for  deliverance.  How  far  that  cry  had  gone  they 
could  not  know.  Frowning  walls  besieged  by  enemies  lay 
all  around  them.  They  could  only  look  up  and  lift  up  help 
less  hands  in  prayer  to  the  hot,  unpitying  August  skies 
above  them.  Sickness  stalked  in  over  the  walls.  Hunger 
tore  its  way  through  the  gates.  Death  swooped  down,  and 
sorrow  seeped  up,  and  despair  lay  in  wait.  But  hope,  and 
trust,  and  faith,  and  love  failed  not. 

They  ate  dogs  and  horses.  They  went  half  naked  that 
they  might  make  sand  bags  of  their  clothes  for  greater 
defense.  They  exhausted  every  means  for  protection  and 
life,  but  they  forgot  not  to  pray. 

On  this  August  night,  while  unknown  to  the  besieged 
the  Allied  Armies  encamped  only  six  miles  away,  the  reign 
of  terror  reached  its  height  for  the  little  Christian  strong 
hold. 

The  storm  beat  pitilessly  on  the  starved  and  ragged 
captives.  The  rain  softened  the  earthworks  and  the  rivers 
of  water  in  the  trenches  threatened  to  undermine  the  walls. 
Across  these  walls  the  incessant  attack  of  cannon  and  roar 
of  rifles  was  beyond  anything  the  six  weeks'  siege  had 
known,  and  only  the  power  of  Omnipotence  could  stay  the 
bloody  hands.  So  the  long  hours  of  the  dreadful  night 
dragged  on. 

At  length  came  daydawn.  The  storm  had  rolled  away. 
A  lull  in  the  besieging  guns  gave  the  Legation  a  little 
rest  of  mind.  Hungry  and  helpless,  it  waited  the  passing 


1  The  End  of  the  Wilderness  385 

of  another  day.     A  silence  seemed  to  fill  the  city  and  the 
wiser  ones  wondered  anxiously  what  it  might  portend. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  it,  a  great  gun  boomed  out 
to  the  northeast.  Another  gun,  and  another.  Then  came 
a  pause  and  the  besieged  listened  eagerly,  for  their  own 
walls  felt  no  shock.  Again  came  the  bellow  of  cannon, 
nearer  and  heavier,  repeated  and  repeated,  and  the  roll  of 
smoke  and  the  rattling  fusillade  of  bullet  shots  told  that  a 
battle  was  on.  Outside  the  gates !  An  army  come  against 
Peking !  The  Army  of  Deliverance !  They  were  here  fight 
ing  for  the  Christians !  Oh,  the  music  of  birds'  song,  of  rip 
pling  waters,  of  gently  pulsing  zephyrs,  the  music  of  old 
cathedral  chimes,  of  grandest  orchestras  —  nothing  of  them 
all  could  sound  so  like  to  the  music  that  the  morning  stars 
sang  together  as  this  deafening  peal  of  cannon,  this  rip 
pling  rhythm  of  Krag  rifles. 

With  bursting  hearts  they  waited  and  watched  the  great 
wall  to  the  north.  It  is  sixty  feet  high  and  fully  as  wide 
at  its  base,  tapering  to  twenty-five  feet  across  the  top. 
Could  the  gates  be  stormed?  Could  this  wall  be  shaken? 
From  the  highest  points  inside  the  Compound  eager  eyes 
scanned  the  northeast  as  the  battle  raged  on  with  crash 
of  shells  and  whir  of  bullets.  Then  down  to  the  waiting 
ones  came  a  message  that  seemed  to  fly  to  every  ear  in  the 
besieged  city,  making  men  and  women  drop  to  the  ground 
in  a  very  ecstasy  of  joy. 

"  They've  run  up  the  Stars  and  Stripes  on  the  northeast 
wall!" 

The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon  was  come  again 
to  Peking,  as  it  came  once  long  ago  to  the  Valley  of 
Jezreel. 


386  Winning  the  Wilderness 

The  Allied  Armies  broke  camp  early  on  the  morning  of 
August  fourteen  in  the  year  of  nineteen  hundred.  Six 
miles  away  stood  the  most  impassable  defense  an  army  of 
the  West  might  ever  storm.  Yet  the  twelve  thousand  men 
did  not  hesitate.  With  General  Chaff ee's  troops  in  the  front 
of  the  line  they  fought  through  fiercely  skirmishing  forces 
up  to  the  hoary  old  city's  gates,  the  Fourteenth  United 
States  Infantry  leading  the  way.  The  American  guns 
cleared  the  Chinese  soldiery  from  the  top  of  the  walls,  and 
the  American  cannon  were  in  line  ready  to  blow  open  the 
huge  gates. 

"  I  want  to  know  what's  on  the  other  side  before  I  open 
up  the  gates,"  General  Chaffee  declared. 

So  the  command  was  given  for  a  volunteer  to  scale  the 
wall,  to  stand  up  a  target  for  the  Chinese  rifles!  To 
be  blown  to  pieces  by  Chinese  cannon !  Yet  the  armies 
must  know  what  awaited  them.  There  must  be  no  debouch 
ing  into  a  death-trap  for  a  wholesale  massacre. 

Thaine  Aydelot  had  cherished  one  hope  since  the  twilight 
hour  on  the  battlefield  at  Yang-Tsun  —  that  when  this  day 
should  come  the  American  might  lead  the  way  through  the 
Peking  gates  and  be  first  to  enter  the  strange  old  city. 
Not  merely  because  he  was  an  American  patriot,  but  because 
to  him  the  American  soldiers  with  all  their  sins  and  follies 
of  youth  and  military  life  were  yet  world  missionaries. 

Thaine  knew  his  comrades  shared  his  hope,  whether  for 
the  same  high  purpose  he  could  not  have  asked.  He  had 
no  longer  dreams  of  military  glory  for  himself.  His  joy 
was  in  achievement,  no  matter  by  whose  hand. 

"  There's  an  order  for  somebody  to  go  up  on  the  wall." 

The  word  was  passed  along  the  line.     Before  it  reached 


The  End  of  the  Wilderness  387 

Thaine  and  his  comrades  a  young  soldier  had  leaped  for 
ward  to  obey  the  order. 

"Glory  be,  America  first!"  Goodrich  said  fervently. 

"And  a  Kansan.     A  Jayhawker!" 

Thaine  did  not  know  who  said  it.  He  saw  the  soldier, 
young  Calvin  Titus,  a  Kansas  boy,  leap  after  the  Japanese 
coolies  who  ran  forward  toward  the  wall  with  the  long 
bamboo  scaling  ladders.  And  for  one  instant's  flash  of 
time  the  old  level  prairies  came  sweeping  into  view,  the 
winding  line  of  Grass  River  with  the  sand  dunes  beyond; 
the  wheat  fields,  the  windbreaks,  the  sunflowers  beside  the 
trail,  and  far  away  the  three  headlands  veiled  in  the  golden 
haze  of  an  August  morning.  A  Kansas  boy  the  hero  of 
the  day  —  first  of  all  that  army  to  stand  on  top  of  that 
hoary  old  wall!  The  prairies  had  grown  another  name 
for  the  annals  of  history. 

Before  him  were  the  little  brown  coolies  holding  the 
ladder,  and  up  its  slender  swaying  height,  round  by  round, 
went  young  Titus  nimbly  as  a  squirrel  up  a  cottonwood 
limb. 

The  Kansas  men  went  wild. 

"Rock  Chalk!  Jay  Hawk!  K  U!  oo!"  they  shouted 
again  and  again,  ending  in  the  long  quavering  wail  as  the 
University  yell  must  always  end. 

Up  and  up  went  Titus,  sixty  feet,  to  the  top  of  the  wall. 
Then  as  he  stood  above  the  strange  old  Oriental  city,  filled 
now  with  frenzied  fighters ;  above  the  poor  starving  Chris 
tians  in  their  Compound  —  saved  as  by  a  miracle;  above 
the  twelve  thousand  soldiers  sent  hither  from  the  far  home 
lands  beyond  the  seas  to  rescue  human  beings  from  deadly 
peril.  As  he  stood  over  all  these,  a  target  for  a  hundred 


388  Winning  the  Wilderness 

guns,  the  khaki-clad  young  Kansan  lifted  his  right  hand 
high  above  his  head  and  swung  out  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
to  all  the  breezes  of  that  August  morning. 

Then  came  the  belching  of  cannon,  the  bursting  of 
huge  timbers,  the  groaning  of  twisting  iron,  and  through 
the  splintered  gates  the  Allied  Armies  had  entered  the 
city. 

Inside  the  walls  the  hundred  thousand  Boxers  renewed 
the  strife.  The  walls  and  gates  of  the  Foreign  Legation 
were  as  stubbornly  defended  by  the  Chinese  fanatics  on  the 
outside  now  as  the  besieged  Christians  had  defended  them 
against  the  Chinese  on  the  inside.  Entrance  was  made  at 
last  through  the  sluiceway,  or  open  sewer,  draining  out 
under  the  city  walls. 

It  was  a  strange  looking  line  of  creatures  who  came 
crawling,  waist-deep  in  filth,  through  the  sewer's  channel. 
The  old  Aydelot  sense  of  humor  had  saved  Thaine  many 
a  time.  And  he  wondered  afterward  if  he  had  not  seen  by 
chance  the  ludicrous  picture  of  himself  in  a  huge  mirror, 
if  his  heart  would  not  have  burst  with  grief  when  Pryor 
Gaines  came  toward  him,  mute  and  pallid,  with  outstretched 
hands. 

The  little  group  of  soldiers  who  had  fought  and 
marched  together  had  not  had  off  their  clothes  for  seven 
days.  A  stubby  two  weeks'  beard  was  on  each  face.  Their 
feet  were  raw  from  hard  marching.  Rain  and  dust  and 
mud  and  powder  smoke  had  trimmed  their  uniforms,  and 
now  the  baptism  by  immersion  in  the  Compound  sewer  had 
given  them  the  finishing  touches.  But  the  gaunt-faced  men 
and  women,  the  pitiful,  big-eyed  children,  whose  emaciated 
forms  told  the  tale  of  the  six  weeks'  imprisonment,  made 


The  End  of  the  Wilderness  389 

them  forget  themselves  as  these  poor  rescued  Christians 
hugged  and  kissed  their  brave  rescuers. 

Thaine  hadn't  kissed  any  woman  except  his  mother  since 
the  evening  when  he  and  Leigh  Shirley  had  lingered  on 
the  Purple  Notches  in  a  sad-sweet  moment  of  separation. 
It  lifted  the  pressure  crushing  round  his  heart  when  he 
saw  Goodrich,  with  shining  eyes,  bending  to  let  a  poor  little 
missionary  stroke  his  grimy  cheek. 

The  Boxers  retired  by  degrees  before  the  superior  force, 
entrenching  themselves  inside  the  Imperial  City.  Never  in 
its  history,  centuries  on  centuries  old,  had  this  Imperial 
City's  sacred  precincts  been  defiled  by  foreign  feet.  Here 
the  Boxer  felt  himself  secure.  Here  the  gods  of  his  fathers 
would  permit  no  foreigner  to  enter.  On  these  hoary  old 
walls  no  Christian  would  dare  to  stand.  On  three  sides 
of  the  Imperial  City  these  walls  were  invincible.  The 
fourth  was  equipped  with  six  heavy  gates. 

In  a  council  of  the  powers  the  impossibility  of  storming 
these  gates  was  fully  made  clear.  The  number  of  soldiers 
was  carefully  estimated  —  American,  Japanese,  Russian, 
German,  French,  and  Italian,  Sikh  and  Sepoy,  Bengalese, 
Scotchman,  Welsh,  and  Royal  Englishmen.  All  had  suf 
fered  heavily  in  this  campaign.  None  more  grievously  than 
the  American. 

The  decision  of  the  council  was  overwhelming  that  the 
Imperial  City  could  not  be  taken  by  this  little  force 
outside  its  battlements.  Only  General  Chaffee  protested 
against  giving  up  the  attempt. 

"Can  your  men  take  those  walls?"  The  query  came 
from  the  leaders. 

"My  men  can  take  hell,"  General  Chaffee  replied,  with 


390  Winning  the  Wilderness 

less  of  profanity  than  of  truth  in  his  terms.  And  the 
attempt  was  given  over  to  the  Americans. 

One  of  the  six  gates  stood  wide  open,  a  death-trap  laid 
by  the  wily  Boxer,  believing  that  the  foreign  forces  would 
rush  through  it  to  be  shot  down  like  rats  in  a  hole.  Beyond 
it  was  a  paved  court  some  five  hundred  yards  wide,  reaching 
up  to  a  second  wall,  equipped  likewise  with  six  great  gates. 

Thaine's  company  was  singled  out  to  go  inside  the  open 
gate  and  draw  the  Boxer  fire  toward  themselves  while  the 
American  army  stormed  the  closed  gates.  The  little  group 
of  men  lay  flat  on  the  pavement,  defending  themselves  and 
harassing  the  enemy.  They  knew  why  they  had  been  sent 
in,  but  they  were  seasoned  soldiers.  Thaine  looked  down 
the  line  of  less  than  a  hundred  men,  McLearn,  and 
Boehringer,  Tasker,  Goodrich,  and  Binford,  all  were  in 
that  line.  He  felt  a  thrill  of  soldier  pride  as  he  said  to 
himself : 

"We  are  fit.  They  have  chosen  us  for  the  sacrifice. 
We'll  prove  ourselves."  Then  he  thought  of  nothing  else 
but  duty  all  that  day. 

The  capture  of  the  first  wall  opened  the  way  to  a  second 
with  a  paved  court  beyond  it,  and  beyond  that  lay  a  third, 
and  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth;  wall  and  court,  wall  and  court, 
through  which,  and  across  which  the  American  army  forced 
its  way  by  heaviest  bombarding  under  heaviest  fire,  leaving 
a  clean  rear  for  the  other  armies  to  follow  in.  Only  the 
sixth  and  last  wall  remained.  General  Chaffee's  men  had 
not  failed.  The  flag  of  red,  white,  and  blue  had  led 
steadily  on  'mid  a  storm  of  shells  and  a  deluge  of  bullets. 

One  more  onslaught  and  the  last  gates  would  burst  wide 
open.  Eagerly  the  American  soldiers  waited  the  command 


The  End  of  the  Wilderness  391 

to  finish  the  task.  But  it  was  not  given.  The  leaders  of 
the  other  armies  had  counseled  together  and  prevailed 
against  further  advance,  whether  moved  by  military  pru 
dence  or  governed  by  jealousy  of  the  ability  of  General 
Chaffee  and  the  magnificent  record  of  the  American  sol 
diers  in  the  Orient,  the  privates  could  not  know. 

Just  as  the  command  to  retire  was  sounded  Japanese 
coolies  had  run  with  scaling  ladders  to  the  last  wall.  It 
was  the  supreme  moment  for  Thaine  Aydelot.  He  was  only 
a  private,  but  in  that  instant  all  the  old  dominant  Cavalier 
blood  of  the  Thames,  all  the  old  fearless  independence  of 
the  Huguenot  Aydelots,  all  the  calm  poise  and  courage  of 
the  Quaker  Penningtons  throbbed  again  in  his  every  pulse- 
beat.  He  threw  aside  his  soldier  obligation  and  stood  up 
a  man,  guided  alone  by  the  light  within  him. 

"It  is  a  far  cry  from  the  green  Kansas  prairies  to  the 
heart  of  old  China,"  he  declared  to  himself.  "  Yet  I'll  go 
to  the  heart  of  that  heart  now,  and  I'll  show  it  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  of  a  free  people,  so  help  me  God!" 

He  turned  and  sped  to  the  last  wall,  snatching  the  flag 
from  a  color-bearer  as  he  ran.  At  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
the  men  holding  it  wavered  a  little.  Thaine  threw  the  flag 
up  to  a  coolie  who  was  already  climbing. 

"Take  it  up.  If  I  don't  get  up,  wave  it  there  if  you 
die  for  it,"  he  cried  as  he  sprang  up  the  ladder  behind  the 
color-bearer. 

The  shots  were  thick  about  them  as  up  and  up  they  went 
until  at  last  Thaine  stood  beside  the  indomitable  little 
Japanese  who  had  carried  the  American  flag  up  the  ladder. 

Below  the  Kansas  boy  lay  the  holy  city  of  an  ancient 
civilization  in  all  its  breadth  of  ingenuity  and  narrowness 


392  Winning  the  Wilderness 

of  spirit.  Standing  there,  a  target  for  every  gun,  waving 
the  Star-Spangled  Banner  out  over  that  old  stronghold,  he 
cried : 

"This  is  the  end  of  the  wilderness!  Look  up  and  see 
the  token  of  light  and  hope  and  love.  Other  hands  than 
mine  will  bear  them  to  you,  but  I  have  shown  you  their 
symbol.  I,  Thaine  Aydelot,  of  Kansas,  first  of  all  the 
world,  have  dared  to  stand  on  your  most  sacred  walls  with 
Old  Glory  in  my  hand.  Wherever  its  shadow  falls  there  is 
life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  In  God's  good 
time  they  will  all  come  to  you  in  peace  as  they  have  come 
to  you  now  in  warfare.  Mine  today  has  been  the  soldier 
service,  and  mine  today  the  great  reward." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  SUNFLOWER 

Sons  and  daughters  of  the  prairie, 

Dreaming,  dreaming, 
Of  the  starry  nights  that  vary, 

Gleaming,  gleaming! 
You  may  wander  o'er  your  country  where  the 

vales  and  mountains  be, 
You  may  dwell  in  lands  far  distant,  out  beyond 

the  surging  sea. 
But  ah !   just  a  yellow  sunflower,  though  across 

the  world  you  roam, 

Will  take  you  back  to  Kansas  and  the  sun- 
kissed  fields  of  home. 

—  NANCY  PARKER. 

Thaine  Aydelot  sat  with  Doctor  Carey  and  Pryor  Gaines 
in  the  latter's  home  in  the  Foreign  Compound  in  Peking. 

"I  have  done  my  work  here,"  P^or  was  saying.  "I 
have  only  one  wish  —  to  go  back  to  old  Grass  River  in 
Kansas  and  spend  my  days  with  Jim  Shirley.  We  two  will 
both  live  to  be  old  because  we  are  useless;  and  Leigh  will 
be  marrying  one  of  these  times,  if  the  Lord  ever  made  a 
man  good  enough  for  her.  So  Jim  and  I  can  chum  along 
down  the  years  together." 

"  It  is  the  place  for  you,  Pryor,"  Doctor  Carey  asserted. 
"And  now  that  the  ranch  is  making  money  while  Jim 
sleeps,  you  two  will  be  happy  and  busy  as  bees.  Every 
neighborhood  needs  a  man  or  two  without  family  ties. 
You'll  be  the  most  useful  citizens  in  that  corner  of  the 
prairies.  And  think  of  eating  Jim  Shirley's  cooking  after 
this." 

393 


394  Winning  the  Wilderness 

"And  you,  Thaine?  What  now?"  Pry  or  asked  as  he 
looked  fondly  at  the  young  battle-tried  soldier. 

"  I  have  done  my  work  here,"  Thaine  quoted  his  words. 
"I've  only  one  wish  —  to  go  back  to  old  Grass  River  in 
Kansas  to  take  my  place  on  the  prairie  and  win  the  soil 
to  its  best  uses;  to  do  as  good  a  work  as  my  father  has 
done." 

Thaine's  dark  eyes  were  luminous  with  hopefulness,  and 
if  a  line  of  pathos  for  a  loss  in  his  life  that  nothing  could 
fill  had  settled  about  his  firm  mouth,  it  took  nothing  from 
the  manliness  of  the  strong  young  face. 

"And  you,  Carey?"  Pryor  asked. 

Doctor  Carey  did  not  reply  at  once.  A  strange  weari 
ness  had  crept  over  his  countenance,  and  a  far-away  look 
was  in  his  eyes.  The  man  who  had  forgotten  himself  in 
his  service  for  others  was  coming  swiftly  toward  his  re 
ward.  But  neither  of  his  friends  noted  the  change  now. 
At  last  he  said: 

"Years  ago  I  loved  a  girl  as  I  never  could  care  for 
any  other  girl.  She  would  have  loved  me  sooner  or  later 
if  something  hadn't  happened.  A  message  from  the  man 
she  cared  for  most  fell  into  my  hands  one  day  long  ago: 
a  withered  flower  and  a  little  card.  I  could  have  kept  them 
back  and  won  her  for  my  wife,  but  I  didn't.  I  sent  the 
message  to  her  by  a  servant  boy  —  and  she  has  been  happy 
always  in  her  love." 

Doctor  Carey  turned  his  face  away  for  the  moment. 
Thaine  Aydelot's  eyes  were  so  much  like  Virginia  Thaine's 
to  him  just  then.  Presently  he  went  on: 

"  Sometimes  the  thing  we  fail  to  get  helps  us  to  know 
better  how  to  live  and  to  live  happily.  You  will  not  be 


The  Call  of  the  Sunflower  395 

a  coward,  Thaine,  when  you  come,  year  by  year,  to  know 
the  greater  wilderness  inside  yourself.  You  will  go  back 
to  the  prairies  where  you  belong,  as  you  say,  and  you  will 
do  a  man's  part  in  the  big  world  that's  always  needing 
men." 

Thaine  recalled  the  evening  hour  when  he  and  Leigh  were 
on  the  Purple  Notches  and  he  had  declared  in  the  pride  of 
his  nineteen  years  that  he  wranted  to  go  out  into  the  big 
world  that  is  always  needing  men  and  do  a  man's  part 
there. 

"  If  the  big  world  needs  men  anywhere,  it  is  on  the  old 
prairies,"  he  declared,  and  the  doctor  continued :  "  I  have 
found  my  future  already.  I  shall  not  leave  China  again. 
Grass  River  may  miss  me  as  a  friend  but  not  as  a  doctor 
of  medicine.  Doctors  are  too  plentiful  there.  My  place 
is  here  henceforth,  and  I'm  still  young.  I  came  to  the 
Philippines  to  be  with  Thaine  "  —  Horace  Carey's  voice  was 
low,  and  the  same  old  winning  smile  was  on  his  face  — 
"because  I  love  the  boy  and  because  I  wanted  to  protect 
him  if  it  should  be  my  fortune  to  do  it.  I  saved  him  from 
the  waters  of  the  Rio  Grande  and  helped  to  pull  him  out 
of  the  hospital  at  Manila.  He  doesn't  need  me  now, 
for  he  goes  to  do  a  big  work,  and  I  stay  here  to  do  a 
big  work." 

"Out  of  love  for  me  alone?"  Thaine  asked  affection 
ately,  throwing  one  arm  about  Horace  Carey's  shoulder. 

"No,  not  you  alone,"  Carey  answered  frankly,  "but 
because  something  in  your  face  always  reminds  me  of  a 
face  I  loved  long  ago.  Of  one  for  whose  sake  I  have  cared 
for  you  here.  You  are  going  home  a  brave  man.  I  believe 
your  life  will  be  full  of  service  and  of  happiness." 


396  Winning  the  Wilderness 

The  silence  that  followed  was  broken  by  Pryor  Gaines 
saying: 

"All  this  time  —  such  a  tragical  time  —  I  have  forgot 
ten,  Thaine,  that  I  have  a  message  for  you,  a  little  package 
that  reached  here  late  last  May.  It  was  sent  to  me  because 
the  sender  thought  you  were  coming  to  China  soon,  and  I 
was  asked  to  keep  it  for  you.  You  didn't  come,  and  mails 
ceased  to  leave  Peking  —  and  then  came  the  siege,  the 
struggle  to  keep  up  the  defenses,  the  sickness,  the  starva 
tion,  the  deaths,  the  constant  attacks,  the  final  sight  of 
Old  Glory  on  the  outer  walls,  and  your  triumphal  entry 
through  the  sewer.  You  see  why  I  forgot." 

He  took  a  little  package  from  his  writing  desk  and  gave 
it  into  Thaine  Aydelot's  hand. 

The  young  soldier  tried  to  open  it  with  steady  fingers, 
for  the  address  was  in  a  handwriting  he  knew  well.  Inside 
a  flat  little  box  was  a  card  bearing  the  words: 

To  PRINCE  QUIPPI,  BEYOND  THE  PURPLE  NOTCHES. 

And  underneath  that  lay  a  withered  little  yellow  sun 
flower. 

Two  evenings  later  as  the  three  men  sat  together,  Horace 
Carey  suddenly  gripped  Thaine's  hand  in  his,  then  sank 
back  in  his  chair  with  eyes  that  seemed  looking  straight  into 
eternal  peace ;  and  the  same  smile  that  had  won  men  to  him 
seemed  winning  the  angels  to  welcome  him  heavenward.  In 
the  midst  of  his  busy,  useful  years  his  big  work  was  done. 

The  sunflowers  were  just  beginning  to  blossom  along  the 
old  Grass  River  Trail.  The  line  of  timber  following  every 


The  Call  of  the  Sunflower  397 

stream  was  in  the  full  leafage  of  May.  The  wheat  lay 
like  a  yellow-green  sea  over  all  the  wide  prairies.  The 
breeze  came  singing  down  the  valley,  a  morning  song  of 
gladness. 

Leigh  Shirley  had  come  up  early  to  the  Sunflower  Ranch 
to  spend  the  day  and  night  with  Virginia  Aydelot,  while 
Asher  and  her  uncle  Jim  took  a  two  days'  business 
trip  to  Big  Wolf  with  Darley  Champers.  Jim  had 
brought  Virginia  a  big  bunch  of  exquisite  roses  which 
nobody  but  Jim  Shirley  could  ever  have  grown  to  such 
perfection. 

Virginia  went  into  the  house  to  find  the  tall  cut-glass 
vase  Doctor  Carey  had  sent  to  her  when  he  started  West, 
while  Leigh  went  to  the  gate  of  the  side  lot  to  pet  a  pretty 
black  colt  that  whinnied  to  her. 

"  You  beautiful  Juno ! "  she  cried,  patting  the  creature's 
nose.  "Mrs.  Aydelot  says  you  are  as  graceful  and  well- 
bred  as  all  your  grandmothers  have  been  since  the  time 
a  Juno  long  ago  followed  a  prairie  schooner  down  the  old 
Grass  River  Trail  to  a  little  sod  shack  on  a  treeless  claim 
in  the  wilderness.  This  is  too  fine  a  morning  to  go  in 
doors,"  she  added  as  she  came  back  to  the  front  lawn  to 
the  seat  under  the  fragrant  white  honeysuckle. 

She  was  as  sweet  as  a  blossom  herself  this  morning,  with 
her  soft  brown-gold  hair  waving  back  from  her  face,  and 
her  blue  eyes  full  of  light. 

Somebody  had  turned  from  the  road  and  was  coming 
up  the  walk  with  springing  step.  Leigh  turned  her  head 
to  see  who  it  might  be,  as  she  reached  for  a  spray  of  the 
fragrant  honeysuckle,  and  found  Thaine  Aydelot  standing 
before  her. 


398  Winning  the  Wilderness 

With  a  glad  cry,  she  dropped  the  blossoms  and  sprang 
to  her  feet. 

"  Prince  Quippi  couldn't  come  nor  write,  so  he  sent  me. 
Will  I  do  for  an  answer,  Leighlie?  I  was  coming  back  to 
the  blessed  old  prairies,  anyhow ;  to  my  father  and  mother 
and  the  life  of  a  farmer.  I  have  come  to  see  at  last 
through  Asher  Aydelot's  eyes  that  wars  in  any  cause  are 
short-lived,  and,  even  with  a  Christian  soldiery,  very  brutal ; 
that  after  the  wars  come  the  empire-makers,  who  really 
conquer,  and  that  the  man  who  patiently  wins  from  the 
soil  its  hundredfold  of  increase  may  be  a  king  among  men. 
I  can  see  such  big  things  to  be  done  here,  but,  oh,  Leigh, 
are  you  sure  you  want  me  here?" 

Thaine  was  holding  her  hands  in  a  gentle  grip,  looking 
with  love-hungry  eyes  down  into  her  face. 

"  I've  always  been  sure  I  wanted  you,"  Leigh  said  softly, 
"and  I've  always  hoped  you  would  come  back  here  to  the 
prairies  again.  But,  Thaine,  I'm  so  proud  of  you,  too, 
for  all  the  heroic  things  you  have  helped  to  do  in  the  Phil 
ippines  and  in  China.  I  am  glad  now  you  did  go  for  a 
while.  You  have  been  a  part  of  a  history-making  that 
shall  change  all  the  future  years." 

Thaine  put  his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her  close  to  him 
as  he  said: 

"  Then  we'll  go  and  build  a  house  on  the  Purple  Notches, 
a  purple  velvet  house  with  gold  knobs,  and  all  that  yellow 
prairie  away  to  the  west  that  was  only  grass  land  four 
years  ago  we'll  turn  to  wheat  fields  like  Asher  Aydelot's 
here.  John  Jacobs  was  holding  that  ground  for  some 
body  like  you  and  me.  We'll  buy  it  of  his  estate.  We'll 
show  the  fathers  what  the  sons  can  do." 


The  Call  of  the  Sunflower  399 

A  thrill  of  happiness  lighted  Leigh's  face  for  a  moment, 
then  a  shadow  fell  over  it  as  she  said: 

"  Thaine,  Darley  Champers  and  I  have  kept  a  secret  for 
a  year." 

"You  kept  it  'danged'  well.  What  was  it?"  Thaine 
asked  gaily. 

"  Jane  Aydelot,  who  died  last  year,  left  me  all  her  prop 
erty,"  Leigh  began. 

"Good  for  Jennie,"  Thaine  broke  in,  but  Leigh  hur 
ried  on. 

"I  always  knew  she  meant  to  do  it,  and  that  was  one 
reason  why  I  sent  you  away.  I  wouldn't  have  your  money 
and  I  felt  if  you  knew  you  wouldn't  ask  me  for  fear  I'd 
think  —  Oh,  money  you  don't  earn  or  inherit  squarely  is 
such  a  grief,"  Leigh  paused. 

"  So  you  wouldn't  let  me  have  any  hope  because  of  this 
junk  in  Ohio  that  you  were  afraid  you'd  get  and  I'd  seem 
to  be  wanting  if  I  married  you,  and  you  thought  I  ought 
to  have  and  you'd  seem  to  be  marrying  me  to  get.  If  I 
ever  have  an  estate,  I'll  leave  it  to  foreign  missions.  I'd 
like  to  make  trouble  for  the  cuss  that  got  me  at  the  Rio 
Grande.  Money  might  do  it,"  Thaine  declared. 

Leigh  did  not  laugh. 

"  You  are  right,  Thaine.  I  was  so  unhappy  about  it  all. 
For  since  I  first  came  to  Uncle  Jim's,  I  knew  I  ought  not 
have  Miss  Jane's  love  and  the  farm  that  you  would  have 
had  if  she  knew  you." 

"You've  known  this  all  these  years  and  never  told  even 
me.  You  silent  little  sub-soiler!"  Thaine  exclaimed. 

"  It  grew  in  my  mind  from  an  almost  babyhood  impres 
sion  to  a  woman's  principle,"  Leigh  declared.  "I  never 


400  Winning  the  Wilderness 

thought  of  telling  anybody.  But  there  was  another  thing 
that  kept  me  firm  that  day  on  the  Purple  Notches.  Years 
ago,  when  I  was  a  baby  girl,  I  remember  dimly  seeing  two 
men  in  an  awful  fight  one  night  just  at  dusk  down  on  the 
railroad  track  by  Clover  Creek  in  Ohio.  I  thought  one  of 
them  was  my  father.  Miss  Jane  would  never  tell  me  any 
thing  about  it,  and  made  me  promise  never  to  speak  of  it. 
So  I  grew  up  sure  that  my  father  had  committed  some 
dreadful  crime,  and,  Thaine,  until  I  knew  better,  I  couldn't 
take  the  risk  of  disgracing  your  name,  the  proud  name  of 
Aydelot." 

"  Oh,  Leigh,  it  is  no  matter  what  our  forefathers  do  — 
they  were  all  a  bad  lot  if  we  go  back  far  enough.  It's 
what  we  do  that  counts.  It's  what  I  do  as  Thaine  Aydelot, 
not  as  Asher  Aydelot's  son,  that  I  must  stand  or  fall  by. 
It's  how  far  we  win  our  wilderness,  little  girl,  not  the  wil 
derness  our  fathers  won  or  lost." 

Thaine  was  sitting  beside  Leigh  now,  under  the  per- 
fumy  white  honeysuckle  blossoms. 

"  But,  Thaine,  the  bans  are  all  lifted  now." 

Leigh  sat  with  face  aglow.  "  Your  grandfather  wouldn't 
let  his  property  go  to  a  child  of  Virginia  Aydelot,  so 
Miss  Jane  couldn't  give  it  to  you.  She  left  it  to  me  — 
all  her  property,  provided,  or  hoping,  I  would  —  you 
should  — "  she  hesitated. 

"Yes,  we  should,  and  we  will,"  Thaine  finished  the  sen 
tence.  "Bless  her  good  soul!  I've  always  been  rather 
fond  of  her,  anyhow ! " 

"And  Darley  Champers  found  out  that  my  father  was 
accidentally  drowned  long  ago  in  Clover  Creek.  Uncle  Jim 
says  he  never  could  swim,  and  so  that  burden  is  lifted.  But, 


The  Call  of  the  Sunflower  401 

Thaine,  will  you  want  to  go  back  to  Ohio  to  the  Aydelot 
homestead?  I  could  sell  it  for  a  club  house  to  the  Clover- 
dale  Country  Club,  but  I  waited  till  you  should  come,  to 
know  what  to  do." 

There  was  just  a  little  quaver  in  Leigh's  voice. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  back  to  Ohio  ?  "  Thaine  inquired. 
"  Unless  you  do,  the  country  clubbers  may  have  the  place. 
There  is  no  homestead  there  for  me.  This  is  my  home 
stead.  I  want  that  open  ranch-land  beyond  the  Purple 
Notches.  But,  Leigh,  if  my  father  as  administrator  and 
trustee  for  John  Jacobs'  estate  can  sell  me  the  ground 
and  your  inheritance  from  Jane  Aydelot  pays  for  it,  what 
is  there  left  for  me  to  do  after  all?  I  can't  take  favors  and 
give  none.  I'll  run  away  and  enlist  with  the  Regulars 
first." 

A  rueful  look  came  over  his  face  now,  and  behind  the 
words  Leigh  read  a  determined  will. 

"  The  real  thing  is  left  to  you,"  she  replied,  "  the  big 
gest  work  of  all.  You  must  go  out  and  tame  the  soil. 
Your  father  bought  his  first  quarter  with  money  his  father 
had  left  him  by  will,  but  he  had  no  inheritance  to  buy  all 
the  other  quarters  that  make  the  big  Aydelot  wheat  fields 
of  the  Sunflower  Ranch.  If  every  acre  of  the  prairie  was 
covered  with  a  layer  of  eastern  capital,  borrowed  or  inher 
ited,  it  would  not  make  one  stalk  of  wheat  grow  nor  ripen 
one  ear  of  corn.  But  you  may  turn  up  the  soil  with  your 
plow  and  find  silver  dollars  in  the  furrow.  You  may  herd 
cattle  on  the  plains,  and  their  dun  hides  will  bring  you 
cloth-of-gold.  You  may  seed  the  brown  fields  with  alfalfa, 
and  it  will  take  away  the  fear  of  protest  or  over-draft,  as 
the  Coburn  book  says  it  will.  I  know,  because  I've  tried 


402  Winning  the  Wilderness 

and  proved  it.  Oh,  Thaine,  with  all  your  grand  battles  in 
the  East  which  is  always  our  West,  Luzon  is  still  a  jungle 
and  China  isn't  yet  in  the  light.  You  have  only  prepared 
the  way  for  the  big  things  that  are  to  follow.  I  never 
hear  the  old  Civil  War  veterans  telling  of  their  achieve 
ments  in  a  Grand  Army  meeting  without  wishing  that,  after 
their  great  story  is  told,  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Prairies 
would  tell  their  tale  of  how  the  men  and  women  fought  out 
the  battles  here  with  no  music  of  drums  nor  roar  of  can 
non,  nor  bugle  calls,  nor  shoulder  straps,  nor  comradeship, 
nor  inspiring  heroic  climaxes,  and  straight,  fierce  cam 
paigns  to  victory.  But  just  loneliness,  and  discourage 
ments,  and  long  waiting,  and  big,  foolish-seeming  dreams 
of  what  might  be,  with  only  the  reality  of  the  unfriendly 
land  to  work  upon.  I'm  so  glad  you  want  to  stay  here 
and  to  take  that  open  prairie  beyond  the  Purple  Notches 
for  our  kingdom." 

The  happiness  in  Leigh  Shirley's  eyes  took  from 
Thaine's  mind  the  memory  of  all  the  hardship  and  tragedy 
of  his  two  years  on  the  battlefield.  Her  pride  in  his  achieve 
ments,  her  joy  in  his  return  and  her  dream  of  their  future 
together  in  a  work  so  full  of  service,  filled  his  soul  with 
rejoicing,  as  the  May  morning  opened  for  these  two  its 
paradise  of  Youth  and  Love. 

Asher  and  Virginia  Aydelot  had  come  out  on  the  veranda 
to  look  for  Leigh.  A  moment  they  waited,  then  Asher 
said  softly: 

"He  has  forgotten  us,  but  he  has  come  back  to  the 
life  we  love." 

"  And  he  will  come  back  to  us  tenfold  more  ours,  because 


The  Call  of  the  Sunflower  403 

his  heart  is  here,"  Virginia  answered,  and  the  two  stole 
softly  indoors. 

"  See  the  roses  Jim  brought ;  they  seem  to  belong  to 
that  beautiful  vase,"  Virginia  said  as  they  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  dining  room.  "  I  think  Jim  must  have  meant 
them  for  Leigh  and  Thaine." 

"Yes,  he  brought  us  sunflowers  in  an  old  tin  peach-can 
wrapped  with  a  newspaper,  and  we  had  no  mahogany  din 
ing  room  set  and  not  so  much  cut-glass  and  china  and 
silver  in  our  cupboard,  nor  quite  such  a  good  rug  on  our 
hardwood  floor,"  Asher  replied. 

"But  we  had  each  other  and  the  vision  to  see  all  these 
things  coming  to  us,"  Virginia  said  as  she  looked  up  into 
her  husband's  face  with  love-lighted  eyes.  "  I  wonder  where 
Jim  is." 

"  Jim  is  present."  Jim  Shirley  came  in  quietly  from  the 
side  porch.  "  He  prepared  your  wedding  supper  for  you. 
He  buried  your  first-born,  and  now  he  comes  to  give  you  a 
daughter.  He's  been  first  aid  to  the  Aydelots  all  along  the 
line,  as  he  will  hope  to  continue  to  be,  world  without  end, 
and  a  little  more." 

The  homestead  on  the  Purple  Notches  looks  out  on  a 
level  land  stretching  away  in  an  unbroken  line  to  the  far 
westward  horizon.  Broad  fields  of  wheat  grow  golden  in  the 
summer  sunshine,  and  acres  of  dark  alfalfa  perfume  the 
air  above  them.  With  a  clearer  vision  of  what  reward  farm 
life  may  bring  for  him  who  £oes  forth  and  earns  that 
reward,  the  man  whom  the  Tondo  road  made  a  soldier, 
Caloocan  a  patriot,  and  Yang-Tsun  a  Christian,  has  found 
in  the  conquest  of  the  soil  a  life  of  usefulness  and  power. 


404  Winning  the  Wilderness 

And  the  father  and  mother,  Asher  and  Virginia  Aydelot, 
who,  through  labor  and  loneliness  and  hopes  long  deferred, 
won  a  desert  to  fruitfulness,  a  wilderness  to  beauty — these 
two,  in  the  zenith  of  their  days,  have  proved  their  service 
not  in  vain,  for  that  they  have  also  won  the  second  gen 
eration  back  to  the  kingdom  whose  scepter  is  the  hoe. 

Not  in  vain  did  the  scout  of  half  a  century  ago  drive 
back  the  savage  Indian  from  the  plains ;  not  in  vain  did 
Funston  and  his  "Fighting  Twentieth"  wade  the  Tulijan 
and  swim  the  Marilao ;  not  in  vain  did  Chaff ee's  army  burst 
the  gates  of  Peking,  nor  Calvin  Titus  fling  out  Old  Glory 
above  its  frowning  walls. 

Behind  the  scout  came  a  patient,  brave-hearted  band  of 
settlers  who,  against  loneliness  and  distances  and  drouth 
and  prairie  fire  and  plague  and  boom,  slowly  but  gloriously 
won  the  wilderness.  Into  the  jungles  of  Luzon  will  go  the 
saw  and  spade  and  spelling  book.  Upon  the  Chinese 
republic  has  a  new  light  shined. 

Not  more  to  him  who  drives  back  the  frontier  than  to 
him  who  follows  after  and  wins  that  wilderness  with  sword 
re-shaped  to  a  plow-share  does  the  promise  to  Asher  of 
old  stand  evermore  secure! 

"  Thy  shoes  shall  be  iron  and  brass;  and  as  thy  days,  so 
shall  thy  strength  be.  The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and 
underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms" 


THE  END 


Books  l)ij  Margaret  Hill  McCarter 

WINNING  THE  WILDERNESS 

Illustrated  by  J.  N.  Marchand 

The  latest  book  from  Mrs.  McCarter's  pen  is  pronounced  by  critics  the 
best  work  she  has  ever  done.  It  is  a  tale  of  the  soil,  of  winning  the 
land  from  wilderness  to  fruitfulness.  The  author  has  written  into 
it  a  great  human  story,  an  epic  of  the  prairies.  It  is  aptly  called 
"The  Sunflower  Book,"  for  this  flower  figures  in  the  glowing  romance 
running  through  its  pages — the  golden  flower  that  Kansas  chose  as 
its  emblem  because  its  face  is  ever  turned  toward  the  light. 

A  MASTER'S  DEGREE 

Illustrated  in  color  by  W.  D.  Goldbeck 

Vivid  in  its  portrayal  of  fascinating  college  life,  the  fine  young  men 
and  women  do  more  than  win  victories  in  athletics  and  in  the  class 
room — they  win  out  in  the  battle  for  character.  Vigorous  in  its 
practical  idealism,  this  is  a  story  to  influence  and  inspire. 

A  WALL  OF  MEN 

Illustrated  in  color  by  J.  N.  Marchand 

"With  God  Almighty  backing  us,  we've  got  to  stand  up  like  a  wall  of 
men,"  said  one  of  the  Free-soilers,  and  so  they  stood,  the  defenders 
of  liberty  and  home,  on  the  newly-settled  prairie  lands — where  the 
tragedy  of  the  Civil  War  was  keenly  known.  The  heroic  figure  of  John 
Brown  appears  in  the  story,  and,  with  all  the  warring  and  suffering, 
young  life  with  its  wonderful  love  moves  through  the  pages  of  this 
powerful  book. 

THE  PEACE  OF  THE  SOLOMON  VALLEY 

Frontispiece  by  Clara  P.  Wilson 

In  a  breezy  manner  the  story  is  told  of  a  New  York  City  man  sending 
his  rheumatic  son  to  Kansas  for  a  six  months'  stay  on  the  ranch  of 
an  old  Yale  chum  living  in  the  Solomon  Valley.  The  indignation  and 
expectations  of  the  young  man  collapse  in  the  face  of  the  facts,  and 
he  falls  in  love  with  the  life  of  the  Kansas  farm — and  with  the 
farmer's  daughter. 

THE  PRICE  OF  THE  PRAIRIE 

Illustrated  in  color  by  J.  N.  Marchand 

In  this  book  Mrs.  McCarter  made  her  fame  secure.  It  is  a  great 
picture  of  a  thrilling  time,  and  a  series  of  events  of  historic  signifi 
cance.  Its  pages  are  redolent  of  the  sweet  air  and  wide  landscapes ; 
the  pictures  come  and  go  of  idyllic  childhood,  of  growing  love,  of 
Indian  danger,  of  jealousy,  of  massacre,  and  of  the  movement  toward 
the  settled  life  of  the  plains.  It  is  a  poignant  and  winning  record 
of  the  price  paid  for  the  prairie  home. 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  Publishers 
CHICAGO 


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